Amid the Falling Leaves
by Wistful Future
Summary: In the autumn of Wutai, an Emperor who wants to save his dying country becomes allies with the first woman to become a scholar-official in over two hundred years. The two soon become spouses, friends, parents, and finally lovers—only for the outbreak of war to threaten their newfound love, their young family, and the Empire.
1. Anniversary

A few notes about the story:

It is not a prequel to _The Age of Leviathan_. It _is_ the story I wanted to incorporate into TAL, but ultimately decided to cut because it desperately needed to be its own story. If anything, TAL is the sequel, maybe even the epilogue.

It is almost not a fanfiction. Change the names and a few details and it could easily be an original story about an East Asian-inspired country. (That's what happens when the main character has approximately two appearances in the entirety of FF7 canon.) Although the setting is Wutai before, during, and after the war, it isn't completely consistent with Crisis Core because I thought the depiction of Wutai was pretty disappointing.

Wutai's history, traditions, and culture are inspired by East and Southeast Asia.

Dedicated to Maggie Cheung, whose characters were the inspiration for Faruno Kasumi.

* * *

On the morning of his wedding anniversary, the man woke up early to prepare breakfast. Congee, of course, because it was winter. It took more than an hour to prepare, but the man didn't mind. He didn't have the regimented schedule he used to have. When he finished cooking, the man went to his wife's room, wished her a good morning and a happy anniversary, and put down the tray with the two bowls: one for him and one for her. After he finished eating breakfast and washing the dishes, he changed into his martial arts uniform and walked to the dojo to oversee the morning lessons. The sun was just beginning to rise. Inside the dojo's courtyard, the man watched the children do their warm-up exercises. When all the children arrived, they bowed first to their instructors, then to the Pagoda. Then they began their training. They used to bow to the man too, but that was years ago. The man smiled as he walked through the ranks and listened to the children's unanimous kiai. It was encouraging to see children so enthusiastic about their martial arts lessons. If Wutai still had a future, it lay in these children.

He left the dojo early to prepare lunch, but when he walked into the kitchen, one of the former ladies-in-waiting was already cooking. He protested, reminding her that he had only asked her to bring the ingredients. It wasn't right to make him cook, she insisted. It was beneath him. He tried to tell her that it wasn't, that he wasn't any different from her anymore, but she stubbornly continued chopping the vegetables. Resigned, he thanked her and turned to leave the kitchen. He heard her mutter that he would always be the Emperor.

The man went to his room and exchanged his martial arts uniform for a hanbok. Then he returned to his wife's room to tell her about his conversation with the former lady-in-waiting and apologize because he had wanted to prepare the meal himself. Soon the former lady-in-waiting came to set the table for lunch. Over their meal, the man told his wife about his morning with the children at the dojo. He told her that if he could have lived an ordinary life, he would have liked to teach martial arts at the dojo. It would have been the simple life they once dreamed of, with every day the same: teaching at the dojo by day, and coming home to her and their children at night. Then he would wake up and do it all again. And again. And again. A simple life. But he knew that if he had lived that ordinary life, he might not have met her.

The man cleaned up the dishes and told his wife he was going to take a nap. He never used to take naps, but his body was starting to slow down these days. After the nap, he returned to the kitchen to prepare his wife's favorite tea. He never used to do this either. Now he took pride in doing things himself. Once the tea was prepared, the man returned to his wife's room to drink it with her. This time he remembered to tell her that their daughter wouldn't be home for her mother's birthday. He promised that their daughter would visit as soon as she came home.

Early in the evening, the man found that the former lady-in-waiting had snuck back into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Secretly relieved, he didn't berate her this time. Although he could cook, he was still at a loss when it came to anything beyond rice and stir-frying. So he and his wife ate well that evening. He told her that they were celebrating the anniversary with a banquet, the way they used to. After dinner, he told her that his brother was visiting that evening.

Later that night, the man's brother arrived with a bottle of sake. The man prepared the table with cups for the sake and a plate of rice cakes. His brother shook his head. "After all these years, I'm still not used to it," he said. "You setting the table like the ladies-in-waiting used to do."

The man continued setting the table in silence. When he finished, the two brothers sat down. The man began to pour the wine for his brother, but his brother protested. "I told you, status doesn't matter anymore," the man insisted. "I'm younger. I will pour."

When the drinks were poured, the man raised his cup. "To marriage."

"I'd rather my marriage wasn't included."

"To my marriage."

His brother raised his cup and they drank, savoring the taste of the sake. "Is your daughter home?" the brother asked.

"No. She never is."

"She must be all grown up now. Does she look like her mother?"

The man imagined his wife's face next to his daughter's. "Her face is similar. She has her mother's eyes, and her shape of face. But her smile and her voice are different. Not like me, and not like her mother. Every time I see her she looks less and less Wutainese. She cuts her hair. She dresses and talks like a foreigner. I think it's because of the way she was born. That must have started it all."

His brother seemed to sense that the man's mood was darkening, because he changed the subject. "You should write a memoir about your marriage."

"Why? The historians have a complete record of my reign."

"I said your marriage, not your reign."

"No one needs to know about my marriage."

"You do." When the man stared blankly, his brother continued, "You always say that memory makes us who we are. We're getting old, and I'm worried about what you will become when you forget who you were as Emperor, but especially when you forget your wife."

"That will never happen."

"I know you will never forget the pain. I _am_ afraid that you will forget you were happy once. While most of us were living in the autumn of the Empire, you and your wife lived in a spring of your own."

The man shook his head. "It wasn't that simple."

"Prove it to me," the man's brother said simply. "Write it down."

"You want me to write a memoir about my marriage to prove we weren't as happy as we looked?"

"No. I just think you should write about your marriage."

Since it was late, the man's brother didn't stay long. He wished the man a happy New Year and returned home. The man cleaned up the room, took the dishes to the kitchen, and washed them. Then, since it was his wedding anniversary, he took a bottle of sake to his wife's room and poured a cup for her and one for him. He placed her cup in front of her.

_While most of us were living in the autumn of the Empire, you and your wife lived in a spring of your own._ The man shook his head. "It was never that simple," he said aloud.

_No, _her smile seemed to say. _Once in a while, it was._

And the happiest memories of their marriage returned to him in flashes of color, light, and sound: watching dancing lanterns on a bridge, walking by a lake glittering in the afternoon sun, whirling to the tune of a Western waltz, waking up in the morning with her in his arms. And with those happy memories came others: a bridge over a frozen waterfall in the mountains, the grave of a small child, a town in flames, her letters fluttering to the ground. There seemed to be almost as many painful memories in their marriage as happy ones. But did that mean that their marriage wasn't happy?

The man wished his wife a good night and retired to his room. There he sat at his desk with a brush in hand and a sheet of paper in front of him.

_A memoir? That word makes it sound like it happened ages ago. But the days of my reign were not so long ago._

He dipped the brush in the ink and began to write:

_It was not so long ago when I was the Fifteenth Kisaragi Emperor. Back then, we studied philosophies that many no longer value. We lived according to ideals that many have abandoned. We celebrated festivals and traditions that many have already forgotten. It was the autumn of Wutai, the last glorious blaze of color before the descent of winter, and amid the falling leaves, I met a woman named Faruno Kasumi._


	2. The Prince of Autumn Valor

_Before I met Faruno Kasumi, I was Akitake, the Prince Qiu'wu, the youngest of my father's five children. Of my childhood there is not much to say. It was when I was seventeen years old, the age when all Wutainese children begin their military service, that I first became who I am today._

In the first month of the year, the thirty-first year of the Fourteenth Emperor's reign, the Place of the Earth God's Repose was crowded with thousands of students awaiting the pronouncement of their completion of martial arts training. Their instructors stood stoically in front of them while the Wusheng, the five Masters of the Pagoda, stood facing the vast assembly from the steps of the Pagoda. Outside the Meridian Gate to the south, the students' families clamored to catch a glimpse of the events in the square. Other families were wise enough to stay at home while the ceremony took place so they could celebrate later. Of these proud parents, none were as delighted as the Emperor, whose two daughters and youngest son were among the students in the front row. The Emperor sat in the pavilion above the Palace gate with the rest of his family to observe the ceremony. All attendees wore heavy coats against the bitter cold of the early spring morning. At least the Empress of Heaven had blessed them with clear weather. In the olden days, snow on the graduation date was not uncommon, causing the students to undergo one last test of endurance before they officially concluded their martial arts training.

The Master of Power, Cheon Jae-min, unrolled his scroll and began to read, his mighty voice booming through the icy air over the assembly. He declared the solemnity of the occasion: the end of the students' twelve years of training in the dojo. When he finished, the Master of Speed, Yuan Se-wei, unrolled her scroll and began to read. She invoked the blessing of Leviathan upon the assembly, asking the Water God to smile on the young people who were about to begin three years of military service away from home. Then the Master of Magic, Faruno Bito, affirmed that each of the young people present had proven themselves worthy to complete their martial arts training and commence their service. When he finished, the Master of Weapons, Koyanagi Raska, announced that the dojo's most outstanding student had been selected through a tournament at the end of the students' final year. This year's victor was Akitake, the Prince Qiu'wu, who excelled in all four areas of combat and was assigned to the village of Shuxiang for his three years of service.

The Emperor beamed and waited for his youngest child to emerge from the front row of the students. But no one stepped forward to claim the great honor of the dojo's best student. When the Masters searched the front row, the Prince was nowhere to be found.

As the crowd began to murmur, the Emperor looked around at his family. His second son Akisada was still there, but his eldest, Akiyoshi, was now gone. The Emperor turned to his brother, Prince Regent Takatsugu. "Find them at once!" the Prince Regent ordered the guards. They bowed and ran off to carry out the order.

Meanwhile, the seventeen-year-old Prince Akitake stood in one of the Palace courtyards, quaking with rage while his older brother Akiyoshi and his older sister Rina regarded him with mock pity. "It's all your fault!" Akitake shouted at them. "You made me miss the graduation!"

"_We_ made you miss the graduation? What are you talking about, dear brother?" Akiyoshi asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb! The tea you gave me last night made me sleep in this morning! And then you glued my doors shut! I had to kick them down to get out of my room! Now it's too late!"

"It was too bad!" Rina remarked. "Since you weren't there, the Masters recognized Suzaki instead."

Akitake growled and clenched his fists. "I'll show you who the dojo's best student is!"

Rina smirked and raised her fists. "Bring it, little brother."

With a shout, Akitake ran towards her, but whatever his siblings had put in his tea last night made him sluggish. Rina, already quite fast, was much too fast for him now. When Akiyoshi joined the fray, Akitake struggled to keep both of them in his vision. Akiyoshi's speed began to increase. As a feng shui warrior, he stored the energy released from pain and focused it in order to increase speed or perform magic-like attacks. Luckily, Akitake was skilled at feng shui dao too. In time, he began to increase his own speed. Rina tried, but her specialty was karate, not feng shui dao. When her brothers became too fast for her to keep up, she backed out of the fray and accused them of cheating. They ignored her.

Suddenly, guards burst into the courtyard and barked at the two Princes to break up the fight. Ignoring the guards, the Princes continued the fight until the guards reached in to pull them apart. The Prince Regent strode into the courtyard and was livid when he saw Akitake. "Why are you not at the ceremony?" he demanded.

Akitake looked up at his uncle in confusion. "It's over… isn't it?"

"Over? They have just called your name to present you as the dojo's top student!"

Akitake glared at Akiyoshi. "He told me I slept in and missed the ceremony! Him and—" He turned to glare at Rina, but his sister had stealthily left the scene, probably to return to the ceremony as if she had never left.

"And you believed that?" the Prince Regent demanded in disbelief.

Akitake's face burned in embarrassment. When Akiyoshi supplied, "He has something to say about his bedroom door," Akitake sent him a death glare. The Prince Regent looked at them with an expression that said, _I do not even want to know right now._

"Why are the five of you like this?" he demanded. "Can you not fight each other for even one day?"

"If I clean up, I can still make it to the ceremony on time," Akitake offered.

His uncle scowled. "If you were not the top student, I would tell you to forget about it. Go. If you take too long, I will tell the Wusheng to recognize the next-best student instead."

Akitake ran to his room and cleaned himself up. To avoid pushing his way through the crowds in the square, he left the Palace through the servants' exit and made his way towards the Pagoda along the side. Bowing his head to his stern-faced masters, Akitake apologized for his tardiness and turned around to receive the honor bestowed upon him. His classmates looked back at him sullenly. Akitake sheepishly took the empty spot in the front row.

Finally the Master of Battle, Gu Benshan, concluded the ceremony with the official presentation of the students to the Emperor. All bowed before the Emperor in the pavilion above the Palace gate. Then, with a great resounding of the gong and a thundering of drums, the ceremony concluded. The students filed out of the square in silence.

As the day of the newly minted soldiers' departure for their service drew closer, Akitake and his sisters Riko and Rina spent the time foiling each other's preparations instead of focusing on their own. Akitake was going to Shuxiang, a large town in the wooded province of Pusa Ding. Riko was going to Gufo, just a few days' journey to the southwest. Neither Akitake nor Riko knew how Rina managed to get assigned to Longhua, a fishing town in the southernmost province that was known for its gorgeous South Lake and its grand temples to Leviathan. As revenge, Akitake and Riko decided to join forces to enact a year's worth of pranks against Rina. On the morning of their departure, when their father summoned them to his room to bid them farewell, they were drowsy and red-eyed.

"Do not look so sad," the Emperor ordered them. "Remember that the service years are often the most transformative years in a young person's life. You will learn much by being away from home and among commoners. You may even come back a different person."

On their way out of the room, Akitake and his sisters exchanged skeptical glances. In theory everyone knew that the military service years were supposed to be about serving the Empire's subjects. In practice, it wasn't uncommon for the young soldiers to explore the various pleasures off-limits to them while living with their parents.

The newly minted soldiers filed through the city: some to the west gate, some to the east, and most, including Akitake and his siblings, to the south. If he hadn't stayed up all night, Akitake would have picked a fight with his siblings. Now he was so drowsy that even marching was a chore.

Riko and her fellow assignees to Gufo departed from the main group a few days after they left the city. When the soldiers climbed the imperial road into the mountainous province of Xiantong, a larger group, including Akisada, split off to find their assigned towns and villages. By this time Akitake and Rina had recovered from their severe sleep deprivation enough to enjoy the dramatic landscape of the soaring peaks around them. Rina had only ever left the city for the imperial family's annual exodus to the summer palace. Akitake, on the other hand, tried to hide his awe because he had already been outside the city. In keeping with tradition, when he was seven years old he went to see the cliffs where the first Wutainese people had met and fought against Leviathan to gain his blessing.

After passing through Xiantong, the soldiers made their way through the lake province of Tayuan. A stark contrast from the rugged terrain of Xiantong, most of Tayuan was a plateau covered with rice fields and flanked with mountains whose springs fed the province's largest lake. Here another group split off from the main one to find their assigned villages in the province. South of the province of Tayuan was the forested province of Pusa Ding. Rina and the remaining soldiers continued south to the province of Longhua while Akitake, Akiyoshi, and the remaining soldiers split up between the province's only major settlements: the provincial capital of Pusa Ding and the village of Shuxiang.

Like the capital city, the city of Pusa Ding was surrounded by huge walls of stone. A majestic gatehouse sat atop the gate facing the main road. Akitake looked up at that majestic gatehouse and the mighty walls, imagined patrolling the city's perimeter, and felt jealous of his brother Akiyoshi for having been assigned here. The soldiers assigned to Pusa Ding met their superiors at the gate while those assigned to Shuxiang passed through the city to take the westbound road. At the end of a day's journey, they beheld a village built along the riverbank at the base of a forested mountainside. An assemblage of thatched-roof huts and the occasional tiled roof, with dirt paths winding between the buildings, Shuxiang could not be anything but a letdown after the grandeur of Pusa Ding.

The village elder met Akitake and his companions at the gate. First he bowed low to the Prince and humbly thanked him for the gift of his presence in the lowly village of Shuxiang. _As if I chose to come here,_ Akitake thought scornfully. Then the elder thanked Akitake's companions and led them to the barracks where they were to stay for three years. Akitake's heart lifted when he saw that the barracks were at least in one of the nicer buildings with a tiled roof.

Three years.

The biggest adjustment was simply living outside the Palace. Akitake was used to having eunuch servants at his beck and call, so he ordered his fellow soldiers around as if they were his servants. After all, they couldn't disobey the Prince. When one of the older soldiers dared to challenge him, the younger ones warned him that not only was Akitake the Prince, but he was also the dojo's best student. Within two weeks the entire junior guard of Shuxiang was under Akitake's command. All of his fellow soldiers were at his disposal to run his own errands and do his chores. The lack of Palace comforts, unfortunately, was a different matter. There was only so much anyone could do about bugs and leaks in the roof.

Akitake was otherwise indifferent to his daily duties in the junior guard. The local militia, under whose command the junior guard fell, mostly assigned them to take turns keeping watch at outskirts of the village. When Akitake looked to the east, he could see the silhouette of Pusa Ding in the distance. If only he could patrol that high wall and keep watch from its majestic gatehouse, instead of this makeshift rubble wall and a wooden gate!

Summer passed, then autumn, then winter, and soon the junior soldiers were packing for the return trip to Wutai for the New Year. After an eleven-day journey through the barren forests of Pusa Ding, between the frozen lakes of Tayuan, through the windswept mountain corridors of Xiantong, and across the frost-covered Lotus River Valley, Akitake laid relieved eyes on the massive stone walls of the capital and its towering gatehouse. A short time later, he smiled as he entered the gates of his real home, the Palace.

After a year in the countryside, Akitake found the New Year's celebrations opulent to the point of garishness. The imperial family—the Emperor, the Empress, Akiyoshi, Akisada, Riko, Rina, and Akitake—were seated on the dais in the banquet hall and dressed in scarlet embroidered with gold. The tables were piled high with the finest food in the Empire. The air was full of laughter and jovial conversation.

After the banquet, the imperial family ascended to the pavilion above the Palace gate to observe the fireworks in the square. All in the square bowed low to acknowledge the Emperor's presence before they turned their faces up to the sky. With a series of whistles and resounding booms, the night sky burst into fiery blossoms. The crowds below murmured in awe.

Akitake heard someone approaching and turned to see his father by his side. "What do you think?" the Emperor asked.

Akitake smiled. "It feels like heaven after Shuxiang."

The Emperor cleared his throat. "I have read the reports on your conduct in Shuxiang."

Akitake swallowed hard and waited.

"The reports are all positive. The local militia has only praise for you."

Akitake smiled modestly, suppressing a sigh of relief.

"But I know no one will speak ill of a Prince, so you must report your behavior to me directly."

Akitake's heart sank. "Right now?"

"Yes."

Akitake's mind scrambled to put together a story that wouldn't incriminate him without being false. According to the writings of the Master, lying to one's father was an unforgivable offense. Akitake was no genius, but he remembered that much from his tutor's lessons about the Master's writings.

"Your silence speaks louder than words," his father commented finally. He sighed. "Your brothers are the same. After two of three years of service, neither of them has changed."

"You told us people change during their service, but all I've done for the last year is stand outside a village gate!" Akitake burst. "How is that supposed to change anyone?"

"It's not the patrolling that changes you. It's what you do with the time you don't spend patrolling. Take your uncle, who was sent to Zunsheng."

If Akitake had thought his assignment to Shuxiang was disappointing, an assignment to Zunsheng was downright pathetic. A tiny village in the southernmost province of Longhua, Zunsheng was just big enough to have a name. It had little more than that. "I never had to do the military service, but what your uncle said about his time in Zunsheng made me wish I had."

Akitake's father, who became Emperor at just nine years old, was pulled out of the dojo and exempted from the three years of service. "What did Uncle say?"

"He said that he had seen things he could never forget. The men praying to Leviathan every day so that they would catch enough fish to feed their families. The women cooking with what their husbands brought back and whatever they could find growing along the shore. Boys kicking around anything that rolled. Girls playing with bunches of seaweed. Everyone barefoot and wearing the same ragged clothing almost every day."

As he laid out this bleak picture of village life, Akitake couldn't help thinking of his own luxurious childhood. As the Prince, he always wore silk robes custom-tailored for him and ate fine dishes with exotic ingredients. He spent his ample free time practicing with weapons made of the highest-quality materials and forged by the Empire's most talented smiths.

"But there was one thing that prevented your uncle from feeling only pity for the people of Zunsheng. He saw them celebrate the festival of the summer solstice. On that day the men would exchange their battered fishing boats for teak boats with dragon heads they had carved themselves. The women would spend the morning wrapping zongzi and stirring congee in their biggest pots. In the afternoon everyone would participate in the dragon boat races: men, women, and children. And when evening finally came, everyone sat around a fire and ate and drank as if they were kings. Your uncle later told me that it was the first time he felt jealous of commoners."

Akitake tried to remember if Shuxiang had ever had celebrations like that. Every once in a while, the village seemed a little louder than usual, but he always assumed that the villagers were just making a commotion, as villagers did.

The Emperor turned to his son and looked at him intently. "Now do you understand why our ancestors began the tradition of sending soldiers across the country, and why we do not hesitate to send Princes to villages like Zunsheng? The people learn what their Emperor thinks of them when they see how his sons treat the lowliest of the Empire's subjects."

"Yes, Father."

The Emperor smiled. "You still have fifteen days to enjoy at home. But do not forget what I have said when the time comes for you to return to Shuxiang."


	3. The Sowing

On the way back to Shuxiang, Akitake sulked. Who was his father to talk about the virtues of service when he had never done it? He wasn't even ruling the country. His brother Takatsugu had taken over that role long ago.

On the last stretch of the journey, Akitake couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy when he looked up at the mighty gatehouse of Pusa Ding that was so similar to the capital's south gate, and that his brother had the privilege of patrolling for one more year. And he couldn't suppress the disappointment when he laid his eyes on the village nestled among the trees.

His fellow soldiers cleaned his spot for his return. Akitake thanked them, rolled out the bedding, and sprawled down on it without changing out of his dusty traveling clothes.

He was trying to forget his father's words. He tried so hard that he also forgot to order his fellow soldiers around. It took two weeks for him to notice that they had stopped taking care of his every need. Although they never failed to show him the respect due to a Prince, they did slip out of the obsequiousness he had forced upon them during his first year in Shuxiang. To his surprise, he hardly missed it.

When he wasn't on duty he tried to keep his mind occupied by sparring with his fellow soldiers. He soon learned that they were all eager to learn from the dojo's top student. He found himself enjoying the opportunity to teach them the advanced techniques they had never learned, and how to fine-tune the techniques they did know, but never mastered. When he wasn't sparring with his fellow soldiers or patrolling the area around Shuxiang, he roamed the village streets throughout the day, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells he had missed during his first year. He learned that the men rose at the crack of dawn to go out into the fields and returned at sundown. The women went out to the market at mid-morning, and by noon the streets would fill with the aromas of hearty soups and stews. In the afternoon the boys kicked a ragged ball around in the streets. Once it smacked the back of Akitake's ankles. When he whirled around and began to shout at them, the boys froze and fell into deep bows of apology. Suddenly his anger faded away. Without another word, he kicked the ball back in their direction. The boys looked up and slowly broke into wide grins worth far more than any apology.

On the fifth day of the fifth month, the streets were full of laughter, chatter, and color. All the villagers wore brightly colored hanbok that Akitake couldn't remember ever seeing before. The fragrance of roses filled the air. In one of the village squares, a group of women set up a tall wooden structure; in another, men poured sacks of sand into a large circular enclosure marked out with stakes in the ground. Akitake quickly lost himself in the sea of smiles around him. Everyone seemed to forget he was the Prince: men in a hurry pushed him aside, while young women met his gaze directly and smiled shyly but brightly.

The festivities began. The women finished setting up the wooden structure and tied a swing to it. When a woman climbed on, the crowd gave her a wide berth in front and back. At first she rocked back and forth ever so slightly. But soon she was swooping through the air, much higher than Akitake himself would have dared to go. The smile on her face and the billowing of her skirts spoke of a freedom Akitake never imagined a common woman could have. When the first woman finished, another took her place. She swooped even higher than the first, so high that Akitake almost believed she was going to take flight.

He wandered over to the other square. The men had stripped down to their trousers and were wrestling each other inside the ring they built earlier that morning. After observing a few matches, Akitake picked up the rules: the combatants had to force each other to the ground without removing their hands from the waist of the opponent's trousers. He became so engrossed in watching them that before he knew it, the tournament was over. The village elder presented the victor with a bull while the crowd cheered.

As the crowd dispersed, Akitake saw the young women who had been swinging earlier. Now they pointed at the tournament's victor and giggled. One of them noticed Akitake watching them and pointed him out to her companions. They seemed to find him handsome. As a northerner, tall and pale, Akitake stood out in this sun-tanned, stocky crowd.

"Did you enjoy the festival, Your Highness?"

Akitake turned. The village elder stood beside him, beaming proudly. "It is the sowing festival. It is one of our most ancient festivals. This is how the young men and women of the village find their future spouses. You may have noticed." He laughed.

"I enjoyed the wrestling matches. I think the villages in the north have a similar tradition, but in theirs you have to force the opponent out of the ring."

"I think you would be quite good at our wrestling, Your Highness."

Akitake laughed. Once he had figured out the rules, it was all he could do to keep himself from joining the wrestlers in the ring. "Next year."

"By all means, Your Highness. You may even find yourself a bride!"

The elder chuckled. Akitake was silent. He didn't know if the elder was alluding to the fact that Emperors and Princes once took hundreds of concubines from all over the Empire, placing commoners at the bottom of the ranks of the imperial harem. It was a practice of the preceding Shimotsuki dynasty, not of the Kisaragi dynasty, but he wondered if that distinction mattered to villages as small as Shuxiang. Did they feel the shockwaves of the end of an age when General Kisaragi overthrew the Twentieth Shimotsuki Emperor? Or did they simply continue on with their lives with hardly a thought for whoever sat on the throne?

He changed the subject. "Is anything else happening today?"

The elder suddenly looked uncomfortable. "No. I mean, yes, but you would not enjoy it. Your Highness and the other soldiers should enjoy the evening inside the barracks tonight."

Before Akitake could ask any other questions, the elder bowed and took his leave.

In the evening, Akitake left the barracks and followed the sound of a beating drum to the village's main square. Dancers in vibrant, garishly colored costumes skipped around to the lively beat of the drum. Akitake stayed in the shadows to observe unseen. The lead male dancer was dressed in the robes and hat that clearly identified him as a nobleman. In his frolicking, he collided with the lead female dancer, who was dressed in the plain robes of a commoner. From the ensuing frolicking and wild gesticulating, they appeared to fall in love. When the couple reappeared, the commoner woman was dressed in the elegant robes of a noblewoman and wore the pinned hairstyle of a married woman. While they frolicked together, the nobleman crashed into another female dancer dressed as a noblewoman. Their ensuing frolicking was interrupted by the nobleman's furious wife. The nobleman's exaggerated gestures demonstrated extreme distress. Finally he pushed his wife aside and embraced the noblewoman. In the last scene, the noblewoman took the place of the nobleman's first wife while the commoner woman, stripped of her status, trailed behind as a lowly concubine. Then the dance appeared to end.

While the crowd burst into cheers and hoots of laughter, Akitake clenched his teeth and willed himself to stay back, to let the ignorant peasants have their fun, but his anger propelled him into the middle of the square. At the sight of the livid Prince, some of the villagers' laughter faltered. One bellowed, "He's offended because he knows it's true!" and prompted a wave of timid laughter.

Akitake clenched his fists. "Is this how you repay the imperial family for the protection we give you?" he demanded. "By mocking us behind our backs?"

The crowd, disgruntled rather than ashamed, began to disperse. "Wait!" Akitake shouted. "One of you has to answer for this insult!"

But the people simply trudged away. "So this is what happens when a Prince gets assigned to the village," he heard one of them mutter. "You're not allowed to have fun."

"That's not what this is about!" Akitake roared. "This is about respecting the imperial family!"

"Your Highness, I warned you."

He whirled around to face the elder. "I cannot speak for all commoners," the elder continued. "And I cannot say that these plays are just innocent fun. All I ask, Your Highness, is that you understand that we are a people who struggle just to provide for one woman. We cannot understand how the Emperors can take as many women as they want, and have as many children as they want."

"That doesn't mean you can insult my ancestors," Akitake snapped.

The elder sighed. "If Your Highness wishes to vent your anger, you may take it out on me in the wrestling ring."

"Tonight?" Akitake asked, surprised.

"Yes. The ring is empty now. They will take it apart tomorrow."

He studied the village elder's face in the flickering torchlight. He had to be at least fifty. "I was at the top of my class in the dojo last year, and you want to wrestle with me?"

The village elder smiled. "We are on equal footing so far. I won the wrestling tournament in my day, Your Highness. You must not underestimate this old man."

Akitake could hardly turn down a challenge like that. In a short time he was in the wrestling ring, stripped of his robes and wearing only the trousers underneath. "Do you know the rules, Your Highness?" the elder asked.

"Well enough. Let's go."

The man was much faster and stronger than he looked. After just a few seconds, he flipped Akitake down onto the sand. Akitake promptly rolled to his feet for another round, and another, and another. Finally the elder backed off. "That is enough for tonight."

Akitake growled. After the insult from the masked dancers and the crowd's indifference to his anger, he was even more irritated at his failure to defeat the old man. "I'm going to beat you first!"

"You are fast and strong, Your Highness. But you have yet to learn that patience is the key."

"What do you mean?" Akitake demanded.

"You are stubborn and determined, but you have not yet learned patience. Here in the countryside we are forced to learn patience by tending the earth day after day, waiting for the crops to yield their fruits. It is a patience you must have started to understand when you practiced the same sword strike day after day, knowing that perfecting that single motion would bring you a step closer to becoming Wutai's strongest warrior." The elder bowed. "You are very close, Your Highness. With a little more training, you will be a true master."

He backed out of the ring and made his way through the crowd that had gathered around them. Akitake slipped back into his silk robes. The villagers in the crowd bowed their heads and parted to let him pass through.

The next day, life resumed almost as if the festival had never happened. Although his pride still smarted with the dancers' ridicule and the embarrassment of his failure to defeat the village elder, Akitake resumed walking through the village streets and observing the villagers' lives, forcing himself to understand every detail of their seemingly mundane existence, pushing himself to identify just why they lived with such audacity in such humble circumstances.

The months passed. Before long it was time for Akitake to return to the capital again for the New Year. At the Palace, the Emperor summoned Akitake to his room and proudly showed him the report. Instead of generalities about the Prince's good conduct, the captain of the local militia had written in detail how Akitake instructed his fellow soldiers and engaged with the villagers. The Emperor told Akitake to keep up the good work.

Several days later, as Akitake practiced throwing shuriken at the dojo, the sound of approaching footsteps prompted him to turn around. It was the Prince Regent Takatsugu. When Akitake greeted him, Takatsugu responded, "Your father showed me the recent reports of your conduct in Shuxiang. I'm impressed. Neither your brothers nor your sisters have reports like those. I'm curious: what made you decide to put in as much effort as you have into your service?"

Akitake was eager to show his uncle what he knew. "My father told me about your service in Zunsheng. I've never been able to forget what he said. He told me about how you saw the villagers' daily life, and how you celebrated the summer solstice festival with them."

"Celebrated with them? I never did that."

"Did I misunderstand?"

"I watched the festival from afar. I suppose I did try to join, once. But the celebrations fell flat. No one could forget that I was a Prince."

Akitake was silent. This wasn't the way he had understood his father's story.

"I'm impressed with your interest in the people of Shuxiang, Your Highness. But you should never forget that wealthy people like us are the reason there is so much poverty in these small villages."

"Why can't we do something about it?"

Takatsugu sighed. "Believe me, I've tried. But if I issue a decree as Prince Regent, who is the one who implements it? The magistrate. And does the magistrate care about the poverty of his subjects?"

"He should!"

"But he doesn't. It is good to be idealistic, Your Highness, but we must not forget the reality: no matter how large the Emperor's heart, his reach is limited." He smiled. "You have one year left in your service in Shuxiang. I advise you only to enjoy it. Don't get too caught up in the life of commoners. You will want to do things for them that you cannot do."

It was with his uncle's words in mind that Akitake returned to the humble but familiar sight of Shuxiang for his final year of service. As he began training with the new arrivals and resumed his daily walks around the village, he began to wonder. Would they speak of him well when he was gone? Or would they ridicule him in one of their masked dances? If they did, would that be so bad? Surely being the butt of their jokes would be better than being completely forgotten?

On the day of the sowing festival the celebrations began just as they had the year before: the smell of roses, the brightly colored hanbok, the women soaring on their swing, the men stripping down to their trousers to prepare for the wrestling tournament. This time Akitake was part of it. During the warm-up matches, his opponents looked nervous, as if afraid that ninjas would burst out of the shadows to slit their throats if they dared to win against the Prince. "I'm not going to go easy on you," Akitake told each opponent, "so don't go easy on me!" When they heard this his opponents grew bolder and less afraid, and before long they were tackling him to the ground like one of their own.

The tournament began. The summer sun beat down on the wrestlers, dampening their shoulders and chests with sweat. The spectators fanned themselves or sought the cover of shade to keep cool. Glancing around, Akitake noticed that the crowd seemed much larger than last year, and not just because his fellow soldiers had turned up to watch their senpai compete. During a break between matches, Akitake overheard a comment that people from around the countryside had heard of the Prince's participation and were eager to watch. His pride swelled. It reminded him of the tournament at the end of his training in the dojo, the one that won him the title of the dojo's top student. He was determined to win a similar honor this year, even if he wasn't sure what to do with the bull that would be awarded to him if he won.

The crowd turned out in droves for the final match. Some climbed trees; some climbed on top of roofs, to the chagrin of the residents. All held their breaths in anticipation as the two finalists—one son of Shuxiang, one son of the Kisaragi clan—entered the ring. Akitake thought his opponent's face looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he had seen it. There were many faces he recognized after more than a year of walking the village streets, yet somehow this particular face eluded him.

The match began and the two young men braced themselves against each other. This last opponent seemed to have shoulders of iron, but Akitake pressed onward_._ He managed to force his opponent out of the ring, allowing both men a brief respite to wipe the sweat out of their eyes. Then they began again, pushing back and forth and attempting to flip each other onto the sand. At last his opponent's muscles slackened just for a split second—all Akitake needed to sweep his opponent's feet out from under him. The crowd burst into awestruck shouts. His opponent dusted the sand off and gave Akitake a quick nod as if to congratulate him.

They braced themselves against each other again to begin the second round. Still giddy with the triumph of the first round, Akitake was unprepared for the opponent's return and narrowly avoided being flipped over within the first few seconds. The opponent did manage to shove him outside of the ring. They swiped their hands across their faces and began again. At the end of the long struggle, this time it was Akitake who found himself thrown down onto the sand. The crowd murmured with excitement: a tie meant that the third round would decide the victor.

The two men waited for the crowd to quiet down. When silence settled upon the square once again, Akitake and his opponent locked themselves in position for the final round. This one lasted much longer the previous two rounds: both were pouring sweat with exertion. The sun's heat was so merciless that after Akitake forced his opponent out of the ring to reset the round, the village elder brought them both water. Both gulped down a mouthful and poured the rest on their sweat-soaked heads. Then they wiped their hands on their trousers and braced themselves once more.

Akitake closed his eyes and fell into a state of calm. He imagined himself descending deep, deep down into the source of his energy, his qi, to draw on strength he had never summoned before. Then he shot out of that state of calm and back into the present moment. The crowd roared when his opponent staggered.

Suddenly Akitake looked over his opponent's shoulder and saw the village elder's face. And finally he realized why his opponent looked so familiar: he was the village elder's son.

In that same instant he found himself thrown down onto the sand amid the crowd's roars of delight. The elder's son reached down, helped him up, and bowed low. "You fought well, Your Highness."

Akitake returned the praise and left the ring. The crowd parted to allow the village elder and the bull through. Beaming with pride, the elder presented the bull to his son and proclaimed him the victor of the tournament. The crowd burst into cheers and applause.

That night the junior guard celebrated with xionghuang wine that one of the soldiers had bought in Pusa Ding. As they toasted the Prince's almost-victory and talked about entering the tournament next year, one of the soldiers informed Akitake that the village elder was waiting for him outside the barracks. Akitake put his cup down and went outside.

The elder's eyes shone with pride. "You did well, Your Highness. People came from all over to watch. They say even the Nagatsuki family came."

"They did?" Akitake had forgotten that his grandmother's family had a castle not far from Shuxiang.

"I think they were very proud to see that the grandson of Empress Xiaoqianzhi is so highly skilled."

"Is your family celebrating tonight?"

"Yes. I just stepped out to congratulate you. You should be proud of yourself. You will make a good Emperor, Your Highness."

Akitake froze. "Be careful what you say," he warned in a low voice. "The Emperor's choice of successor is always a matter of strict secrecy."

The elder shook his head. "I know nothing about court politics and the Emperor's ways. All I am saying is that if you are named Emperor, you will have the undying loyalty of our village."

"Just because I joined your wrestling tournament?"

"Because you took the time to understand us, Your Highness. No other soldier, Prince or otherwise, has ever done that." He smiled. "When the time comes for you to leave, we will tell stories of the Prince who walked our streets and wrestled in our tournaments, just like a commoner. We will tell those stories long after you have forgotten us."

"I won't forget you," Akitake protested.

"Thank you, Your Highness." The elder bowed and returned to his house to join the feast. Akitake went back inside the barracks to continue celebrating with his fellow soldiers.

After the sowing festival, life returned to normal again, at least until the end of summer, when the elder's son was married. The ceremony took place outside the elder's house. The entire village seemed to have been invited. From his place in the crowd Akitake watched the elder's son and his bride in their bright red robes bow to each other, wash their hands, and drink from small cups. After the ceremony, there was a banquet outside. Each family brought its own table and a dish to share. The conversation, the music, and the dancing were lively, but Akitake found himself stealing glances at the elder and his wife. Whereas the son and his bride often whispered into each other's ears and giggled, the elder and his wife spoke to each other only occasionally. Yet their gentle smiles spoke of a marriage that had endured through of good times and bad alike. When Akitake returned to the barracks and lay down in his bed, he couldn't stop thinking of the elder and his wife. For the first time, he began to wonder: _Are the commoners right? Is one woman enough if you marry the right one?_

Autumn passed with its fiery leaves and gave way to winter. Before Akitake knew it, he only had twenty days left before he was scheduled to conclude his service and return to Wutai for the New Year. Even as he thought longingly of the warmth of his Palace bedroom and all the other comforts of the Palace, he couldn't help dreading that he had to leave the village he now thought of as home. He promised the elder that he would try to visit at least once a year, no matter how difficult it was for a Prince to leave the capital. The elder assured him that he would always be welcome no matter how often or how rarely he visited, especially for the sowing festival.

One cold winter morning, Akitake woke up to the sound of pounding on the barrack doors. "Open up!" shouted a voice outside. "Open up in the name of the Emperor!"

One of the soldiers stumbled to open the doors while Akitake and the rest of the soldiers scrambled to their feet. An imperial messenger strode inside, found Akitake, and fell to his knees in a kowtow. "May our Emperor live and reign for ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years!"

The soldiers all fell to their knees and repeated the greeting. "What are you doing?" Akitake demanded. "This is the greeting reserved for my father!"

The messenger raised his head. "Your Majesty, the Fourteenth Emperor has died of a heart attack. With his dying breath he named you his successor. You are the Fifteenth Emperor!"


	4. Fifteenth Emperor

When Akitake disembarked from the palanquin within the Palace gates, it was to find the courtyard filled with guards and officials dressed in white mourning clothes. They all bowed low before him, shouting, "Ten thousand years!"

Akitake looked across the courtyard to the platform in front of the throne room. There were the former Prince Regent Takatsugu, his stepmother Empress Dowager Shiwasu, the two Consort Dowagers, and his four half-siblings. As Akitake approached, he saw the expressions on his family's faces. The Empress Dowager Shiwasu looked pale, but otherwise calm. His siblings were sullen. And his uncle? He looked completely impassive, but Akitake sensed that Takatsugu was hiding his thoughts behind that impassive face.

When Akitake reached the top of the steps, his family bowed down along with the rest of the guards and officials in the courtyard. He turned around, and suddenly he was at the center of the world: everyone was bowing to him, everyone was watching him, everyone would listen to his every word if he spoke. He used to think his father must feel powerful when he stood in this very spot. Now that he was the one standing in that place, it was only unsettling.

The imperial family rose to their feet, and Takatsugu spoke. "Your Majesty, you must be exhausted from the journey. I suggest you take the day to rest. I will begin instructing you on your duties as Emperor tomorrow morning."

Despite Takatsugu's words, the rest of the day was anything but peaceful: the tailor took Akitake's measurements and his new physician examined him, all while Akitake's new chief attendant Eunuch Quang oversaw a team of eunuchs bringing Akitake's belongings into the Emperor's quarters. It was late by the time the ladies-in-waiting rolled out his bedding and helped him change from his traveling clothes into a yukata to sleep.

Akitake spent the next few days side by side with Takatsugu to learn the regimented schedule of the Emperor. The Emperor's day started well before sunrise. Immediately after dressing, the Emperor, accompanied by his retinue, went to the Palace shrine to pray to Leviathan. After prayer, the Emperor went to the library to read the historical records. After the morning reading session, the Emperor and his retinue went to S'zheng Hall, or the Palace offices, to take breakfast and prepare to meet the scholar-officials. Eunuch Quang brought stacks of reports from officials all over the Empire and a list of officials who wished to meet with the Emperor. Over breakfast the Emperor reviewed the reports and made appointments to meet with the officials. At mid-morning once a month, he went to the throne room to preside over the meeting of all the court's scholar-officials. Otherwise he spent the rest of the morning doing administrative tasks. In the early afternoon he took a small lunch. He might have the rest of the afternoon at his leisure, but for now Akitake spent his afternoons in S'zheng Hall reading about the numerous rituals that the Emperor was responsible for performing. In the evening he had dinner, either at S'zheng Hall or in his own quarters. He prayed once more to Leviathan before going to bed. He retired early in the night in order to rise before dawn.

At the same time Akitake was learning the Emperor's routine, the Palace was preparing for the New Year. On the first morning of the year was the New Year's audience with the court officials. Each court official went up with his family to offer his condolences for the previous Emperor's death, congratulations upon accession to the throne, and greetings for the New Year. To keep himself from zoning out, Akitake tried to identify each official's rank by his robes. When he grew tired of that, he began to count the number of consorts each official had, which was often fewer than the number each official actually had because only a select few could accompany him on official occasions. Akitake was startled to find that sometimes an official's child was older than his consort.

Each official greeted him with his new title, Fifteenth Emperor. Emperor Juugodou. In everyday speech his subjects would refer to him as Emperor Godo. The name Akitake was now sacred and never to be uttered aloud. In responding to each official's greeting, Godo had to remember to respond using the personal pronoun reserved solely for the Emperor's use.

On the final day of the New Year's celebrations, Godo went to Takatsugu to tell him that he wanted to hold a court session the following day. "Are you in such a hurry to assume your responsibilities?" Takatsugu asked. "The officials will still be thinking of the celebrations. They won't be able to concentrate."

For a moment Akitake was under the impression that Takatsugu had been talking about the officials' children. "These are grown men who went through years of studying and examinations to earn their position," he pointed out. "They should be ready to come to the Palace when the Emperor summons them."

"All grown men get distracted. Give them a few more days," Takatsugu insisted. "And your father's funeral is not far off. You might as well wait until after that."

On another occasion, when Godo told Takatsugu that he wanted to hold court more frequently than the customary monthly meetings, Takatsugu discouraged him, saying that holding court more frequently would take officials' time away from more pressing matters. "And you are still learning about your own responsibilities," he told Godo. "You don't become Emperor overnight. It takes months to learn how to rule an Empire."

Godo reluctantly took his advice. He used the time he would have spent in court sessions in the library instead, reading about the complex bureaucracy of the imperial government. A few days later, Eunuch Quang informed him that Dowager Consort Yu, one of his father's three widows, had summoned him to her residence. Her tone was friendly as she expressed her interest in how he was adjusting to his new role as Emperor. She was concerned, she said, because it must be hard, considering the rumors about his mother. She then quickly took back her words, saying that she didn't want to burden him. After all, she had known his mother and was certain that the rumors must be false.

That evening Godo, followed by his retinue, went to the library in search of the records from his father's reign. Although the lives of the Emperor's consorts were not recorded in detail, the Emperor's life was. The secretaries would have recorded Emperor Yondo's interactions with Godo's mother, the late Imperial Noble Consort Hara Yunna. Lady Hara entered the Palace along with Lady Liang on the occasion of Emperor Yondo's wedding to Lady Shiwasu. Although Emperor Yondo later took two more concubines, Consort Hara was his favorite.

By the time Eunuch Quang came to tell Godo that he had to go to the Palace shrine for the night prayer to Leviathan, Godo still hadn't found anything that called his mother's character into question. Clearly Dowager Consort Yu was misleading him. The question was why. She wasn't the mother of either of his brothers. Was she jealous of his mother? Was she trying to imply that Consort Hara was responsible for Emperor Yondo's yielding the throne to his brother upon her death? Either way, Godo didn't have time to worry about Dowager Consort Yu's grudge against his mother.

On the evening of Emperor Yondo's funeral, a procession traveled from the Palace out to the square and into the imperial burial grounds. The Emperor's coffin, accompanied by his three surviving wives and five children, his extended family, and an entourage of eunuchs and guards traveled in solemn silence. As the eunuchs eased the coffin into the mound, Godo glanced at each of the burial mounds of his ancestors, and of the two dynasties that preceded them. Some of those Emperors were illustrious and diligent. Others were self-indulgent and depraved. He imagined each of those Emperors in their majestic yellow robes, all turning to him with curious gazes as if to ask: _And you? What kind of Emperor will you be?_

When he convened the imperial court a few days later and looked out at the sea of sullen and unresponsive faces, they, too, seemed to ask him: _What kind of Emperor will you be?_

Later that month he observed the graduation of the dojo's students. It was only three years ago that he was late to his own graduation and was declared the top student of his year. But something other than reminiscence occupied his mind as he watched the five Masters of the Pagoda. Before the Kisaragi family overthrew the Shimotsuki dynasty, they were a martial clan. One of the Wusheng was always a Kisaragi. Before Kisaragi Itaru became the First Kisaragi Emperor, he was the Master of Battle. So was every Kisaragi Emperor before the Eleventh. When at the end of the ceremony the entire crowd in the square turned to Godo to bow, he gazed at the Wusheng and wondered if they, too, were wondering: _What kind of Emperor will you be?_

After the graduation, Takatsugu spoke with Godo about the upcoming final civil service examinations. Like the dojo graduates who were assigned to cities, towns, and villages across the country for three years of military service, those who passed the final round of civil service examinations would be assigned to the offices of magistrates across the country for three years of political service. "This year eighty candidates made it to the final round," Takatsugu informed Godo. "And their final examiner will be none other than the Emperor. On the morning of the final examination, you will give them a question. They must write their response before the end of the day. You will read each of the responses and select the best one. That one will immediately become a member of the imperial court. The rest will receive a passing or a failing grade. Those who pass will be assigned to political service."

Godo spent the next few days frantically reading the texts his former tutor, Official Lui, recommended to prepare himself to give the final examination. He had never been a good student, and he had forgotten that in addition to being a master administrator and warrior, the Emperor also had to be a scholar. The realization increased his respect for the great Emperors—and explained why there were so few of them.

_But I want to be like them._

On the morning of of the final examinations, secretaries wrote the Emperor's question on eighty blank sheets that were distributed to the candidates. At dusk, the sheets were collected and presented to the Emperor. The exhausted candidates rose, bowed to the Emperor, and filed out of the examination room in silence. Godo took the sheets to Official Lui. One day he would be able to grade the examinations by himself, but for now, he stayed up late for several nights to discuss each answer with Official Lui. At Official Lui's suggestion, they both agreed to fold the answer sheets so as to conceal each candidate's name until all the examinations were scored. When they finished, Official Lui offered to compile the list of passing candidates. An exhausted Godo agreed.

On the morning after the grading was completed, the candidates assembled in the Palace courtyard to await the results of the examinations. First the name of the top candidate was announced. This candidate proceeded into the throne room. In the presence of the incumbent scholar-officials, the Emperor swore him into the imperial court. Next the Emperor called each of the passing candidates one by one into the throne room to commend them on their performance. The number of passing candidates was surprisingly low. When they reviewed the examinations, Godo and Official Lui were both surprised that some of the candidates even made it to the final round.

Official Lui led a girl into the throne room. Godo frowned at his former tutor to indicate that no matter who this girl was, now was not the time for a private audience. But Official Lui announced her the same way he had announced each of the preceding candidates. After some confusion, Godo learned that this girl had indeed passed the final examination, and he himself had passed her. He looked around at his silent, stone-faced court. Now they were interested in what he would do.

The girl was dressed in academic colors, white with black hems, but the style of her robe was distinctly feminine. She must have had it custom-made. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid, framing a round face that came to a point at her chin. Her olive skin was a shade darker than that of most Wutainese; Godo guessed that one of her parents came from one of the southern provinces.

The girl broke the silence to address the Emperor directly. "Your Majesty, do you find me acceptable as a member of the imperial court?"

"No," Godo snapped.

"On what grounds do you object to my presence, Your Majesty?"

"We have not had a female scholar-official in centuries," Godo said, though he couldn't have told her exactly when the last female scholar-official entered the imperial court. "It is not our custom."

"Your Majesty, the imperial court should distinguish between custom and law. Custom excludes women from politics, but no _law_ stops them from entering the imperial court. I might also add that according to the Master's writings, the fundamental concept of the imperial court system is that anyone can rise from the status of a commoner to that of a scholar-official—even a commoner woman like me."

Hours of skimming the books the candidates were required to read weren't enough for Godo to think of a response that wouldn't humiliate him in front of a hall full of people who spent their lives studying these books. Reluctantly, he decided to proceed with her acceptance into the imperial court. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Faruno Kasumi, Your Majesty."

Godo was startled to hear the surname of the Master of Magic. "Faruno? Are you related to Master Faruno Bito?"

"He is my father, Your Majesty."

There were murmurs around the throne room. "Did he approve of your efforts to join the imperial court?" Godo questioned.

"Yes, Your Majesty. He paid for my education."

He sighed. "Very well." He began to recite the formula for the vows of a new scholar-official. "Faruno, are you prepared to assume the duties and obligations of a scholar-official at the imperial court?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Do you accept the responsibility to act with valor, wisdom, and benevolence?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And do you agree to honor the traditions of the imperial court?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"We accept you, Faruno, as a scholar-official of the imperial court. Your agreement to the vows of the scholar-official has been noted. We and the other scholar-officials will discuss where you are to spend the first three years of your service. We will summon you when we have decided."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Faruno Kasumi bowed low and began to turn away, but Godo motioned for her to stay. He stood, descended the steps, and waited for the conversation in the room to mask his words. When Faruno looked up, he saw her eyes, dark and level, for a fleeting moment before she respectfully lowered them again. "As Emperor, We command you to speak truthfully," he said. "Why did you come to the imperial court?"

"To see if I could make it, Your Majesty."

Godo was astonished. "Is that your answer?"

"Your Majesty asked me to be honest."

"Men from all over Wutai join the imperial court seeking justice, or knowledge, or honor for their families."

"Most men join the imperial court because their families have enough money to bribe their way in. I just joined to see if a corrupt system would admit an honest woman."

Her offhand comment about corruption stung. Godo narrowed his eyes. "Are you calling yourself honest?"

"Your Majesty asked me to be honest," Faruno repeated.

"You may have earned the right to enter the imperial court," Godo said stiffly, "but We do not guarantee that you will be able to stay."

"Your Majesty, I said nothing about staying, only about entering."

"You are dismissed, Official Faruno."

After each of the passing candidates had been presented to the Emperor, the court officials filed out of the throne room in silence. Godo signaled for his former tutor to stay. Once they were alone, he rounded on Official Lui. "You knew there was a girl among the candidates. 'Faruno Kasumi'—a name that sounds like 'Spring Mist' couldn't be more feminine!"

"Unless it were Sakura." Seeing that Godo was not amused, Official Lui said, "Your Majesty, are you angry because I didn't tell you or because you truly believe a woman doesn't belong in the imperial court?" Without giving Godo a chance to answer, he continued, "When I saw her name, I thought to myself, 'If I noticed anything about the name of any other candidate—say, that this one comes from a long line of scholar-officials, and that one comes from Xiantong—I wouldn't change their scores.' So I made the same decision when I saw her name."

"This is different! This isn't about family background! This is about the fact that she is a woman!"

"But she did extremely well on the examination. In another year she might have been the top candidate. And she did make a good point about the Master's teachings."

Godo scowled. "So you're on her side."

"It's not about taking sides. It's about whether there is any reason for women not to be in the imperial court, other than 'That's the way it always has been.' Because even that isn't true. You said it yourself, Your Majesty," Official Lui pointed out.

Godo evaded a response by taking his lunch break and going to the dojo, where the battles were physical and not intellectual. In the late afternoon he returned to the throne room, where the most senior court officials had reconvened to decide where the passing candidates would be assigned for their service years. When they came to Faruno Kasumi, one of the officials claimed to hear a rumor that her mother was from Puhua Si. The others scoffed: Puhua Si was a small town on the northeastern cliffs of Wutai. It was said to be so poor that the women worked as pearl divers to support their families. The officials unanimously agreed to assign Official Faruno to the village where she belonged. Godo agreed only absentmindedly: the mention of Official Faruno's mother had reminded him of Dowager Consort Yu's comments about his own mother. After the assignments were completed, he went to the library to reexamine the records about his father's wedding. They stated only that Lady Hara Yunna was the daughter of one of the Emperor's senior advisors. There were no rumors or doubts about her lineage.

The next morning, each candidate was summoned to the throne room to receive his assignment. Official Faruno received hers with no perceptible reaction. Afterwards, on his way out of the throne room, Godo encountered a flustered Takatsugu, who proceeded to speak to him in the doorway of the throne room. "I heard that a woman has been sworn into the imperial court," he said. "How did this happen?"

When Godo told him about scoring the examinations with Official Lui, Takatsugu's eyes narrowed. "I will speak to him at once," he muttered, and stalked away at once. Godo continued on his way, relieved and confident that his uncle would be able to rein Official Lui in.

After the madness of learning the Emperor's routine, celebrating the New Year, attending the funeral, observing the graduation, and examining the scholar-official candidates, the months seemed to pass more quickly. Spring warmed to early summer. Just as the capital began to heat up, the Palace staff began to prepare for the imperial family's annual migration to escape the six hottest weeks of the year. Two days' journey northwest, beyond the mountains that rose to the north of the capital, the rocky slopes descended into grassy plains and the humid warmth gave way to cool breezes. It was here that the Ninth Kisaragi Emperor built the summer palace as a retreat from the stifling summer heat of the capital. No expense was spared: the new construction included the transformation of an existing reservoir into a lake, with surrounding hills built from the excavated earth. The palace itself was built of halls and pavilions atop and along the slopes of these hills, but the focus remained the shimmering lake with its numerous pavilions, especially since time was beginning to take its toll on the palace buildings.

Due to Godo's absence from the Palace in the capital, the court sessions were suspended for the summer, giving Godo a rest from the infuriating indifference of his court officials. Six months into his reign, he struggled to hold them to their responsibilities. He threatened to demote them if they didn't complete the tasks he assigned to them, but they knew he didn't have ready replacements for them. He didn't know if they had something against him or if they had given Takatsugu the same treatment. When he went to his uncle for advice, Takatsugu simply told him that he needed to be more forceful. He still hadn't figured out what that meant, but during the summer he was determined to keep his mind off politics by training with the Imperial Guards. Here his only obligations were to rise early to pray to Leviathan at the pagoda atop the highest hill and pray to Leviathan once more before sleeping.

But even his free time didn't belong entirely to him. Now that he didn't have administrative work to do, he was expected to spend time with his siblings, the Empress Dowager, and Dowager Consorts Liang and Yu, who all came with him to the summer palace. Godo's older brothers Akiyoshi and Akisada made no secret of their continuing hostility over being passed up in favor of their younger brother. He thought telling them about his numerous responbilities would change their minds, but it only made them think that he didn't appreciate the honor bestowed on him. His sisters Riko and Rina had no such resentments, but he was still startled when they were openly friendly to him, something that never happened when they were younger. Rina did make a halfhearted attempt to be hostile, possibly because Akiyoshi was her full brother, but she quickly gave up. Dowager Consorts Liang and Yu, Godo's brothers' mothers, were even more hostile than their sons. The former insisted that Godo became Emperor only because he was the son of his father's favorite consort; the latter wouldn't stop dropping hints about Godo's mother. It was all the more annoying because now the imperial records were out of reach in the library back at the capital. Empress Dowager Shiwasu, with her calm and collected demeanor, constantly defused the tension between Godo, his brothers, and their mothers, all without letting her true thoughts show. As Empress she was considered the official mother of all the Emperor's children, and one of her duties was to keep the peace between the Emperor's consorts and children.

One day Empress Dowager Shiwasu summoned Godo to her quarters for a private conversation. There she asked him how he was adjusting to his role, how much Takatsugu helped him with the transition, and whether his brothers and their mothers had given him too much trouble. Godo hesitated. "There's something I want to ask you."

"Yes?"

He told her about Dowager Consort Yu's constant insinuations that there was more to his mother than he knew. "She does it so much that I don't care what she thinks about my mother anymore," he concluded. "I just want to know if there's any truth to what she's saying."

He was confident that Dowager Consort Yu was only wasting his time, but the Empress Dowager's silence told him otherwise. Finally she spoke. "There is some truth," she said hesitantly. "But you must not be too quick to judge.

"Your mother was the daughter of Minister Hara, one of the Emperor's senior advisors at the time. But the Hara family was newly ennobled, and the rest of the noble families—the Twelve, the Ji, the Yu—looked down on them. Minister Hara wanted to gain the respect of these old families by securing the appointment of multiple family members to the imperial court. At first he had them do so the legitimate way, by having them take the examinations. But it soon became clear that the appointment of scholar-officials depended not on the candidates' academic merit but on the prestige of their families. So when Minister Hara learned that his daughter had become the Emperor's favorite consort, he convinced her to offer to help the Emperor in the appointment of officials."

"She agreed?" Godo stared at his stepmother in horror. "And Father went along with it?"

"He couldn't turn down a request from the woman he loved."

"But… what about fairness? What about being a wise and just ruler?"

"It has been a long time since this Empire was ruled with fairness and justice. The truth is that your father and your mother did no worse than anyone else was doing at the time. But a crime like theirs is hard to cover up, and the higher noble families were determined to disgrace the Hara family. When they demanded that your father account for the Hara appointments, he did everything he could to protect them. Minister Hara and his family members were demoted, but not exiled. Your mother kept her rank and was only warned never to participate in politics again."

As Godo sat in stunned silence, reeling from the realization that his parents had participated in the corruption Faruno Kasumi spoke of, the Empress Dowager continued, "Dowager Consort Yu would have you believe that this means you can't be a wise and just ruler. Are you going to let that be true?"

She and Godo did not speak of the matter again, but her words followed Godo when the summer ended and the imperial household returned to the capital. Soon after their arrival, Godo arranged for an entourage of Imperial Guards to accompany him to his father's tomb. Though disgruntled at having to leave when they had just arrived, they obeyed. That evening, in front of the burial mound, Godo imagined his father: distant, too wrapped up in the past to spare a thought for the present. Too steeped in memories of a consort who died giving birth to a stillborn child to pay much attention to his five living children.

"I won't be like you." Godo was startled at his own boldness. "I'll live in the present. I'll live for my people. Like the greatest of our Emperors. That's the kind of Emperor I'll be."

* * *

The imperial astrologers set the date of the new Emperor's enthronement on the morning of the nineteenth day of the seventh month, close to the date of the autumn equinox. The trees around An-xi Square were still bold green, but the thick air of summer was beginning to ease into the crispness of fall. Before dawn, attendants helped Godo into a robe of dark golden silk embroidered with the dragon crest of the Emperor. On his head they placed the Emperor's tall black hat.

Godo emerged into the courtyard between the Emperor's quarters and the throne hall. Flanked by Imperial Guards in ceremonial armor, he began the long walk across the Palace complex, outside the Palace gate, across An-xi Square, and into the temple complex. Alone inside the Temple of Heavenly Harmony, Godo informed his ancestors that he had ascended to the throne. Upon exiting the temple, he left the temple complex and proceeded to the Pagoda. Inside, the five Masters of the Pagoda bowed low to him to pledge their allegiance. Looking at Master Benshan, the Master of Battle, Godo remembered his offhand thought at the dojo graduation earlier that year—that the Kisaragi Emperors used to be Masters of Battle—and then his gaze fell on Master Faruno. The father of the girl who snuck into the imperial court. If her father was one of the strongest warriors in the Empire, why didn't she choose to follow in his footsteps?

Godo exited the Pagoda and returned to the Palace gate. Now the Palace's outer courtyard was filled with guards and scholar-officials. Across the courtyard and atop the grand stair leading to the throne hall was a pavilion draped with silk. Slowly, Godo made his way across the courtyard and up the steps. On the highest platform stood the members of the imperial household. Each turned to face him as he passed. Godo made his way around the back of the pavilion. Two eunuchs pulled the silk drapes aside to admit him inside. Then they drew the silk drapes in front. Godo looked out onto a scene gilded with the rays of the autumn morning: the guards, the scholar-officials, and his family all standing at attention.

The drums thundered once. Twice. Three times. The array of scholar-officials below bent down and kowtowed once, twice, three times, stood up, and repeated the threefold kowtow twice more. At the drums' signal, the entire assembly in the courtyard shouted as one, "May our Emperor live and reign ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years!"

With this final salute, the eunuchs began to close the drapes. Just before the courtyard disappeared from view, something whistled past Godo's face and—thud!—buried itself into one of the posts of the pavilion. As the eunuchs yanked the curtains open again and Imperial Guards quickly surrounded the pavilion, Godo yanked the arrow free from the post. Attached to the arrow were a piece of paper and a piece of cloth, the part of a scholar-official's robe that indicated the wearer's station. The piece of paper bore Godo and his former tutor Official Lui's handwriting on it: it was torn from one of the examinations they had graded a few months ago. The piece of cloth was from Official Lui's robe. On it was a dark brown stain whose metallic odor told Godo it was dried blood.

He turned around to assure the eunuchs and the guards that he was unhurt, but one thought rang clear in his mind: there was someone who didn't want him on the Lotus Throne.


	5. The Empire's Illness

By the time the three-year mourning period for Emperor Yondo passed, the guards still hadn't found the person who fired the arrow at Godo's enthronement, and no one knew if it was intended to take the Emperor's life or if it was meant as a warning. At least that was what everyone claimed to believe. Godo suspected otherwise.

The arrow was clearly a message that someone believed Official Lui had been a negative influence on the Emperor. The piece of paper hinted that it had something to do with the grading of examinations. Months after the enthronement, one of the scholar-officials let slip that the Prince Regent never used to examine the final round of scholar-official candidates. It was only then that Godo realized he had fewer allies and more enemies than he thought.

His next step had been to find out exactly who his allies were. Now he was no longer sure if he even had any allies. His scholar-officials were either downright hostile or simply apathetic. He had yet to see if any of them were even slightly sympathetic to the cause of reversing the Empire's decline. He took it for granted that the eunuchs couldn't be trusted: they had a history of seizing power from Emperors, especially young ones. The guards' supposed inability to find the assailant at his enthronement suggested that Godo shouldn't put too much faith in them either.

Trusting Takatsugu was out of the question. Although he and his family had long since moved out of the capital and into his mansion in Puhua Si, Godo suspected that the Palace staff were reporting to him. He had no proof that Takatsugu's promise to take Official Lui to task on Faruno Kasumi's induction into the imperial court had anything to do with Official Lui's disappearance and presumed murder, but it was the only lead he had.

Soon after the end of the three-year mourning period for Emperor Yondo, both of Godo's brothers were married: Akiyoshi to a daughter of one of Godo's advisors, and Akisada to a great-niece of Grand Dowager Consort Ji, Takatsugu's mother. Godo understood that his two sisters would be next. The Empress Dowager, who was in charge of arranging their marriages, informed Godo that the woman who was to be his bride, Lady Mutsuki Yoko, was being educated in the West and would not return to Wutai for another three years. Her family wrote to the Empress Dowager to say that she would return if the Empress Dowager wished, but otherwise they wanted her to finish her education before marrying the Emperor. Both Godo and the Empress Dowager agreed.

A few days after the New Year, shortly after Godo arrived at the dojo for his daily afternoon training, a young man quickly approached him. He bowed and introduced himself as Tsai Ji'e, adding, "I've been wanting to talk to you for a while, Your Majesty."

Godo belatedly recognized the name. A few months ago, Eunuch Quang brought him the daily list of officials who wanted to meet with him individually. There was a name he didn't expect: Tsai Ji'e, a young official who had just completed his three-year service in Puhua Si and was recently assigned to a village in the southernmost province of Longhua. Godo declined to meet with him simply because Tsai didn't give a reason for wanting to meet. His name came up for the better part of a month, until one day it simply disappeared from the list.

Now Tsai asked if he might accompany Godo to the archery range. One look at Tsai's lanky frame told him Godo was in no danger, so he accepted. As they began shooting, Tsai's poor aim quickly made it clear that the archery was only an excuse to speak with Godo privately. He wasted no time: "Are you close with the Prince Gao-tsu, Your Majesty?" he asked, using Takatsugu's official title.

Godo adjusted his aim and fired, barely missing the target. "Not really."

"I ask because I have some sensitive information about him," Tsai said in a low voice.

As Tsai aimed, Godo said, "We suspect Our uncle for the murder of Our former tutor, Official Lui. Do you have any information about that?"

"No, Your Majesty. The information I have is about the smuggling in Puhua Si."

"What? Smuggling in Puhua Si?"

"The Prince Gao-tsu has been overseeing the smuggling of opium at Puhua for over ten years now. He gained control of the imperial court, the Palace staff, and some of the magistrates across the Empire using opium as leverage."

Godo narrowed his eyes. "This is a serious accusation to make without proof!"

Tsai handed him several hastily folded sheets. As Godo read them, Tsai explained, "During my service in Puhua, I learned that every three months, in the middle of the night, boats would come and unload at the bottom of the cliffs of Puhua. I later found that these were shipments of opium from overseas. These papers are from the ledgers in the Prince Gao-tsu's archives at his mansion in Puhua. The earliest one dates to eleven years ago. The most recent one is from three months ago. According to the pattern of the records, there's a ship due to arrive in two days."

Godo stared unseeingly at the papers. In one afternoon someone had handed him more evidence to incriminate his uncle than he had found in the last two and a half years. "I've said everything I need to say, Your Majesty," Tsai concluded with a bow. "I am leaving the capital tonight."

And he promptly left the archery range. Godo quickly hid the papers inside his robe and returned to shooting, though the consistent misses betrayed the uproar in his mind. Tsai's revelation raised as many questions as it answered. Although the ledgers confirmed Godo's suspicion of Takatsugu and explained his scholar-officials' slothfulness, they also made him wonder how Tsai found out about these midnight ships, how and why he risked his life to obtain the ledgers, and most importantly, what Godo was supposed to do about it all. Clearly he couldn't just march into his uncle's mansion and wave the ledgers in front of him, but neither could he decline to find out the truth of an accusation as serious as eleven years of opium smuggling. He had to confront his uncle. Doing so alone was out of the question. So was bringing Imperial Guards, which would set everyone on alert for miles around. Whom could he trust to go with him? The elder of Shuxiang had pledged his loyalty. Godo could write a letter asking him to send his militia to meet him in Puhua Si. But such a letter could be intercepted, and the great effort of sending a militia across the Empire would come to nothing if Takatsugu proved to be innocent.

_Master Faruno's daughter is in Puhua Si._

Godo's mind raced. He couldn't bring the army to Puhua, but he could bring a person with the strength of an army. Master Faruno was an honorable man who he could be fairly certain wasn't in league with Takatsugu. And Master Faruno might want to visit his daughter anyway.

The next morning Master Faruno reported to the Emperor's office in S'zheng Hall. Godo told him only that he had heard reports of suspicious activity in Puhua and wanted to investigate, but the situation made bringing an army inadvisable. He was surprised when Master Faruno agreed to accompany him, even when he said he wanted to leave the next morning. They agreed to meet before dawn at the city's northeastern gate.

That night Godo informed Eunuch Quang that he was taking a trip undercover, so the retinue that always accompanied the Emperor on his travels would be unnecessary. He knew it was likely that Eunuch Quang would find out that he was going to Puhua and that Takatsugu would be prepared for his visit anyway, but he was determined to hide as much as possible.

Before dawn the next morning, Godo dressed in his commoner's disguise of a dark cotton kimono, tied his satchel to his back, and left his quarters using the secret passage built in case of invasion. The tunnel took him outside the city walls. He met Master Faruno at the northeastern gate, and they set off in the direction of Puhua. The sky was the clear, deep blue that indicated it would be a bright winter day despite the biting wind sweeping the fields. Godo and Master Faruno traveled in silence and without stopping, except at tiny roadside villages to eat. For every inhabited village that Godo marveled at because it was surviving Wutai's plummeting population, there were two abandoned villages. The sight reminded him that there hadn't been a great Emperor in nearly a century. That made for nearly a hundred years that Wutai lay in neglect and her people suffered while the Emperors lived lives of slothfulness or hedonism. _But I'm going to put an end to that. I'm going to heal the Empire, starting with ending the opium smuggling. After that's done, I'll reform the imperial court and appoint competent officials. Then the real work will begin._

Godo and Master Faruno stayed at a roadside inn and continued the journey to Puhua Si early in the morning. They arrived late in the afternoon. The town gates opened onto a paved road lined with barren trees and narrow channels of water. White plaster walls separated the buildings from the noise of the street. In between the trees were stalls selling food, clothing, and other goods, but especially the region's most valuable resource: pearls. Travelers and locals alike flocked around the stalls. Godo and Master Faruno stared in awe. Finally Master Faruno remarked, "Puhua wasn't like this when I was stationed here thirty years ago."

Godo stopped in his tracks, remembering the rumors that Master Faruno's wife came from this town. "Thirty years ago—was that when you met your wife?" he asked.

"Yes. I was a soldier looking for a wife, and she was a diver who desperately wanted to leave Puhua and live in the capital." Master Faruno smiled wistfully. "We married because it was convenient, but we weren't unhappy."

Godo noticed his use of the past tense. As if he sensed the next question, Master Faruno continued, "My wife passed away soon after giving birth to my daughter. Our son was already eleven at the time, and for a while he blamed Kasumi for their mother's death. To this day they aren't very close."

With a pang of guilt, Godo remembered the senior scholar-officials mocking Master Faruno's wife's lowly background. He understood the pain of growing up without a mother.

Master Faruno told Godo that he was going to visit his daughter and that he would be in place for the plan tonight. Godo continued along the main street on his own. At the end of the street, the straight, level road turned into a winding dirt path leading up to the seaside cliffs. They were steep enough to be the reason Puhua never became a major port, but not so steep that ascending and descending was impossible. As the sun set behind him, Godo saw the divers, all women, ascending the cliffs with their baskets. Tonight, if Official Tsai was right, smugglers would ascend these same cliffs with crates of opium.

Below lay the deep blue expanse of the sea. Godo had only seen the sea once before, when he visited Leviathan's Cave as part of his coming-of-age ceremony, and it had the same effect on him now as it did then. If standing at the top of the Palace steps made him feel like he was at the center of the world, standing on the cliffs made him feel like he was at the edge. Here the world seemed to end; he could easily believe there was nothing beyond, and that he was Emperor not just of Wutai but also of the known world.

He descended the cliffs in the blue glow of twilight and settled under cover of the forest flanking the path. There he slept to recover from the day's long journey. When a noise startled him awake, it was dark. The moonlight barely penetrated the trees. Godo peered down the cliffs and he sighted something on the horizon: a shadowy mass with pinpoints of bright light. From behind he heard footsteps scuffing the rocky path. Within a few moments a group of men filed past Godo's hiding place. Once in a while, they muttered to each other in the Puhua dialect. To Godo, accustomed to the dialect spoken in the capital, the Puhuanese dialect was rough and slurred. Between the scuffing feet, the muttering voices, and the marked accent, Godo could barely distinguish a single word. Behind the lean but muscular men lumbered a large man, huffing and puffing despite the descent.

The men arrived at the bottom of the cliffs and met the boats docked there. They seemed to have come from the larger ship further out at sea. The moonlight was just bright enough for Godo to see the men unloading crates from the boats. There was some kind of conversation between one of the men on the first boat and one of the Puhuanese men. Godo strained his ears. The intonation told him that the language being spoken was not Wutainese but the Western language—and when Godo slowly, painstakingly made his way down the slope, he recognized one of the voices as his uncle's.

Eventually, the boats returned to the ship and the men began to haul the crates up the cliffs. The large man trailed behind, breathing so heavily that the sound alone made Godo feel tired. He waited until long after the footsteps had faded in the distance before he made his way up the cliffs. With the heavy crates weighing the Puhuanese men down, it wasn't long before Godo caught sight of them again. Once more he waited in the shadows before continuing. When they reached the top of the cliffs, they made their way down the hills and into the center of the town, where chocobo-drawn carts were waiting. The men loaded all but two of the crates onto the carts. "Only one for you," Takatsugu said to the men, as if to remind them. It was only then that Godo realized the large man was his uncle.

One of the Puhuan men responded, in dialect that took a moment for Godo to understand, "We want two this time. We finished the last crate in two months."

"We agreed on one. This shipment has to make it to Ji-le," Takatsugu replied impatiently, naming the southernmost village in the province of Xiantong, the neighboring province to the south. "The business is finally expanding. Every crate counts."

Godo lost track of the rest of their argument as he realized what was happening: his uncle was taking advantage of the unemployed husbands of Puhua's female divers and paying them in opium. Meanwhile, Takatsugu and the merchants who sold the opium—and likely the magistrate of Puhua—used the profits to build themselves a handsome street with lavish mansions. Godo now wondered if the divers and their families had been forced to relocate to the forested hills, out of sight of the newly wealthy.

Now the Puhuanese men set off in one direction with their share of the opium while Takatsugu made his way to his own mansion in the hills. Keeping a safe distance between them, Godo followed him until he reached the gate and his guards admitted him inside. Shortly after the doors closed, Master Faruno came walking up the road to the gate, feigning a limp. He began to talk to the guards, playing the part of a confused old man. While the guards were distracted, Godo made his way towards the wall, where the guards' torchlight didn't reach, and quickly climbed up and over. When he dropped down into the courtyard, the two guards on the other side of the wall shouted and ran towards him. Godo quickly disarmed them and knocked them out. When he opened the gates, Master Faruno had already knocked out the other two soldiers. More soldiers came running across the courtyard. Master Faruno assured Godo he could take them all. Godo decided not to doubt the former Master of Magic. He dodged the soldiers and ran towards the main house. Instead of going inside, he scaled the wall again and found himself in the garden. Walking along the veranda, he quickly found the one room with light escaping through its paper screens. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw the doors open.

Takatsugu was sitting at his desk and writing. Godo almost believed his uncle had gone deaf when he didn't even look up. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Takatsugu said, "Good evening, Akitake."

Godo saw that he was working on a ledger. "I always penned these myself," Takatsugu remarked casually, as if he were still instructing Godo in his imperial duties. "I knew this day would come, so I thought, 'Why incriminate a person only for writing down illegal activities he never participated in? If and when the time comes, I will take the fall myself.'"

Godo clenched his fists. "What about all the people you made into drug addicts?" he demanded. "What about the men you're using to carry the crates of opium? How can you pretend to be noble when you took advantage of the poor?"

"I might as well ask you the same question. Are _you_ defending the poor, from your gilded throne in the Palace?"

"No, but I have _your_ scholar-officials to thank for that." Godo gripped the handle of his sheathed katana. "Tell me why you did it, Uncle. My father told me that your service in Zunsheng changed you for the better. How did it come to this?"

"My brother always wanted to believe the best of me. He was right, for a time. When he named me the Prince Regent, I did try to reform the government. But as I told you, no matter how large the Emperor's heart, his reach is limited. I found out that the government is mortally corrupt. So I changed my approach."

He finally put his pen down, raised his head, and straightened. Godo took a step back in horror. His uncle was deathly ill, from his jaundiced face to his enormous swollen abdomen. He wasn't just overweight. Something was horrifically wrong with his body. Godo's face must have betrayed his shock, because Takatsugu laughed. "You see? I am the picture of the Empire. I have been ill ever since I was Prince Regent, but only last year I requested to see a Western doctor. He said I had no more than three years to live. So not only am I preparing the Empire for its imminent death, but I am also preparing for my own death. You made it here because I wanted you to. Because I wanted to know which would happen first: your discovery of the smuggling, or my death."

"Is this a game to you?" Godo asked in disbelief. "Taking advantage of Puhua's men, making opium addicts out of Wutai's people, murdering Official Lui—?"

"If planting just enough evidence to keep you on edge wasn't a game, I don't know what is. Still, you turned out to be more of a challenge than I expected. I didn't expect you to care so much about being the Emperor, what with reinstating the final exams and allowing a female candidate into the imperial court. I told my sister-in-law to give you some discouragement, but clearly she failed. You played well, Your Majesty. Now I'm curious: what will you do with the men you saw earlier tonight? What will they do when you take away their only employment? Go back to sitting around at home while their wives and daughters work? You can tell them your answer yourself," he concluded, his gaze shifting to focus on something behind Godo.

Godo whirled around. Someone was approaching from the darkness of the garden. Multiple people. They came into the light, revealing themselves to be stocky, tanned women. Some were young, some were elderly, but all had fierce expressions on their faces. The eldest spoke boldly and clearly in the Puhuanese dialect. "You made our brothers, our husbands, and our sons slaves to opium. You told them to be here to help you, but we are taking their place to tell you that we will not help you destroy other families across the Empire."

Takatsugu sighed. "Learn from this," he told Godo. "This is what happens when you try to do business with the poor. They don't have a damn clue how it works. Now, if this is where it ends, I'd like to see what else I can get away with."

He pulled a gun from his sash and pointed it at Godo. Behind him, the doors slammed open and Master Faruno raced inside. Branches burst from the floorboards and the ceiling beams, restricting his limbs and plucking the gun out of his hand. The members of Puhua's junior guard filed into the room and surrounded Takatsugu. From across the room, Godo nodded his thanks to the Master of Magic.

Speaking formally as the Emperor, Godo pronounced his uncle's sentence: he would be exiled to an outpost in the mountains of the province of Xiantong. His wife, his concubines, and his two sons would all be questioned to determine the extent of their involvement in the smuggling. As the soldiers began to free Takatsugu from his bonds and as the women, completely unfazed by the spectacle, left the way they came, Godo realized that he felt disappointed. There should have been a massive fight in the courtyard, he should have had to fight his way through the house to get to Takatsugu, there should have been a duel with his uncle. It should have been exciting because he knew what would follow: months of cleaning Takatsugu's associates out of the imperial court and the Palace staff and finding their replacements. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter how it ended, that all that mattered was that the smuggling was over. Or was it? Would someone try to continue the smuggling after Takatsugu's capture?

_Even if someone does, I'll stop them. We'll stop them. Uncle wants me to believe that I'm the only one who wants to reverse the Empire's century-long decline. But there are others. Master Faruno, who has a strong sense of duty to the Empire. The women divers of Puhua, who want their brothers, husbands, and sons to be the men they should be. Whatever I do as Emperor, it must be for them._

* * *

Shortly after returning to the capital, Godo suspended all nonessential government activity to begin the process of firing Takatsugu's associates and finding replacements. Immediately afterwards, he wrote a letter to Official Tsai to invite him back to the capital to be part of the new imperial court. Later that month, he received the response:

_Your Majesty,_

_Though I am grateful for the honor you have offered me, I would be dishonest to accept it. I may have given you the information you needed, but I was not the one who gathered it. That person wished to remain anonymous. Nevertheless, I think they should receive the honor you want to give. I will arrange for this person to meet you next month at the archery range where we talked._

_I am glad to have played a part, however small, in restoring the integrity of the government. Although I am far away in the province of Longhua, I will continue to do my part as a member of your administration._

_Tsai Ji'e_

A month later, during the narrow window of time he dedicated to the dojo in order to get away from the Palace, Godo went to the archery range. Standing there was a young woman wearing green robes that bore a scholar-official's square emblem. Godo realized that this was none other than Faruno Kasumi, recently returned from her service in Puhua Si.

She turned to Godo as he approached. "So it was you," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She bowed. "Your Majesty, I asked Official Tsai not to tell you."

_For good reason,_ Godo thought, though he didn't want to admit it out loud. _If she had been the one to tell me, I wouldn't have listened._ "You told Us that you tested for the imperial court just to see if you could make it. So why did you gather the evidence of the Prince Gao-tsu's involvement in the opium smuggling?"

"Please don't misunderstand, Your Majesty. I am the daughter of a Puhuanese diver. I was curious to see how my late mother lived before she married my father, so I visited the divers' village on the outskirts of Puhua. They told me about the smuggling and what it did to their families. They didn't ask me to do anything about it. I didn't ask whether the divers and their families would struggle even more if the smuggling ended. I only saw that something was wrong and no one was doing anything to set it right. It doesn't take a virtuous person to do that, only a decent person. What I mean to say, Your Majesty, is that you shouldn't misunderstand my intentions."

"Whatever your intentions were, what you did was good. There is only so much the government can do to make sure each person is really living well, but we can at least make it possible for the people of Wutai to live well."

Godo stopped, surprised at his own earnestness. Reassuming his airs as Emperor, he said, "We wish to reward your service. You may have heard that We are reorganizing the imperial court. If you wish, you will have a place in it. Whatever you decide, I won't ask what your intentions are."

Official Faruno's face was impassive, but somehow he felt that it wasn't the same as the indifference she showed him upon her appointment as a scholar-official. Whatever happened in Puhua Si, it had changed her more than she wanted to admit.

Finally Official Faruno responded, "I thank Your Majesty for this great honor, and I accept."

Godo was expecting her to explain her decision, but she seemed to have taken him at his word when he said he wouldn't ask what her intentions were. He replied, "We are glad to hear of your acceptance. We look forward to working with you in the near future."

Official Faruno bowed, and Godo dismissed her. As she walked away, he thought of her name, Faruno Kasumi, a name that sounded like spring mist. Maybe it was because spring weather was upon them, but he couldn't help thinking that the Empire was on the verge of a spring of a different kind: a rebirth after a century of illness.


	6. An Ally for a Wife

Long ago, during the First Age, when all twelve of Wutai's noblest families were still alive and the Fumizuki family ruled as Emperors, the other eleven families quarreled over which of them would marry a daughter to the Emperor to be his Empress. When those quarrels escalated into assassinations, the Emperor decreed that the eleven families would take turns marrying daughters into the imperial family. According to this rotation, Godo was to marry a daughter of the Mutsuki family. At the end of the mourning period for Emperor Yondo, his prospective bride was still in the West to finish three more years of education abroad. In the meantime, some of the other noble families began to recommend their own daughters to Godo. For two years he declined their offers. In the third and last year of waiting for his bride, he changed his mind.

Godo decided to tell Akiyoshi about his idea on a bright afternoon at the summer palace. After the opium incident, Akiyoshi had put aside his animosity and began to respect Godo, and the brothers became better friends than they had ever been in their childhood. Now, as they sparred, Godo asked his brother Akiyoshi, "What if I married Official Faruno?"

Akiyoshi looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or look concerned. "Official Faruno is a woman," Godo explained belatedly.

"A female scholar-official?" Akiyoshi asked. "Since when did we have one of those? And—Faruno? Master Faruno's daughter?"

"Yes. She's been part of the imperial court since the opium incident."

"How old is she?"

"A few years younger than me. I don't know exactly."

"And not married yet? That's unusual." Akiyoshi shook his head. "No, it's nothing compared to what you just said. You, the Emperor, want to marry a scholar-official past the usual age of marriage." Suddenly his eyes widened. "Are you in love with her?"

"What? No!"

"Why else would you want to marry a woman like that?"

"You once told me that the Emperors have always married women from the Twelve Noble Families because they were educated."

"And embroider, and do all those other womanly things. Does Master Faruno's daughter do those too?"

"I don't know, but that doesn't matter. I don't need a wife who can sew. I need a political ally, and Official Faruno is the best one I know. She was the one who made it possible for me to confront Uncle over the smuggling. She speaks well in court, but she has to hold back because she knows the rest of the court will target her if she talks too much. She needs a promotion, and I need an Empress and an ally. That's all there is to it."

"If you want an ally, just make her one of your advisors. Or your concubine. Does she have to be the Empress?"

"A concubine would have no standing in the imperial court. And do you know what everyone would say if I promoted her?"

"Would it be any worse than what they would say if you married her?"

Godo hadn't considered this. He thought about it. "If she is only my advisor, she can turn against me at any time," he said finally. "The best way to secure Official Faruno's loyalty is for her to become my Empress and bear my children."

Akiyoshi looked at him in astonishment. "Can you hear yourself? What you said just now is downright manipulative."

Godo sighed. "It's exactly what my marriage would be if I married a noblewoman. The Emperor's bride is a woman who will be good at what she needs to do, she and the Emperor swear loyalty before the Empress of Heaven, they have children to keep them from turning against each other. How is that any different from what I want to do?"

Akiyoshi shook his head. "What do you think?" Godo pressed.

"You didn't hear this from me. If you really want to do this, talk to the Empress Dowager. If she gives her approval, your advisors can't oppose them. Then you can talk to Master Faruno."

"Thank you."

"For what? I don't know what you're talking about," his brother retorted jokingly.

Later that day, Godo visited the Empress Dowager to ask her about his choice. When he finished his explanation, the Empress Dowager looked doubtful. "I am not opposed to the idea of choosing an Empress from outside the Twelve Noble Families," she commented. "You are wise to marry a woman who can help you rule. But with her education, Lady Mutsuki may be able to help you rule, too. So would any other daughter of the Twelve. And I worry that the Twelve will be deeply offended if you choose a commoner over any of their daughters."

"Faruno Kasumi is not a commoner," Godo pointed out. "She is a scholar-official and her father was a Master of the Pagoda. A man with her pedigree would be allowed to marry a Princess of the highest rank. And I don't doubt that Lady Mutsuki would make a good Empress—but I do think Faruno Kasumi would make a better one."

The Empress Dowager pondered his response. "You may be able to make peace with the Twelve by paying your respects to them after the wedding," she mused. "If you visit each of them, you will show them trust and goodwill that they are honor-bound to repay. You will also show the people of the towns and villages throughout the Empire your goodwill, and they will respect you."

"With your approval, I would like to return to the capital to ask Master Faruno for his daughter's hand as soon as possible."

The Empress Dowager remained silent for a long time. Finally, she said, "I wouldn't agree if I didn't believe this would be for the good of the Empire. Fine. You have my approval."

The next day, Godo informed his chief eunuch Jang that he had urgent business to take care of in the capital, so he wished to leave the summer palace as soon as possible. Eunuch Jang responded that several days would be needed to prepare Godo's retinue for the departure. Eunuch Jang finally agreed on an entourage of several Imperial Guards when Godo reminded him that he could defend himself.

It took two days to travel back to the capital. After the cool mountain air, the humid heat of the capital was unbearable. Godo sweated profusely in the palanquin as he listened to the noise of the street. Beneath the guards' shouting at the civilians to clear the path, Godo heard people chattering about food and outdoor decorations. It was the day before the Seventh Night Festival, the festival of the Herder and the Weaver. It could only be auspicious that the day he planned to approach his intended father-in-law was also the festival celebrating the union of a heavenly couple.

The next evening, Godo put on his commoner's disguise, a dark blue yukata. He imagined walking among the crowds, dressed exactly like one of them. He had never done that before, not even in Shuxiang. Even when he was dressed like all the other soldiers, his uniform had borne the imperial crest of Leviathan.

Thinking of the dragon crest reminded him of the small bundle lying on his table. He picked up the bundle and unwrapped the silk to reveal a long gold hairpin with a red jade phoenix clutching a pearl in its talons. The phoenix was the symbol of the Empress, but when it and the dragon were together, they represented marital harmony. Only then did the full import of what he was about to do sink in: _I'm going to get married. Tonight I will ask for the hand of the woman I want to marry. After our wedding, she'll wear the hairpin every day, and everyone who sees her will know that she is married and she is the Empress. And I will be her husband and the father of her children._

Godo wrapped the hairpin in its protective silk covering and tied it to his sash. He made his way out of the Palace, across the square, and into the streets. The festival was already well underway. The pungent aromas of street food filled the air, and the eaves of the main street were decorated with colorful paper streamers. There was laughter and chatter all around. As Godo approached the bridge, the crowds began to press in. When someone pushed past him, he almost shouted at her before he remembered himself. He should have gone a different day, dressed as the Emperor. But no one was supposed to know about this. It had to be tonight.

He peered over the crowd's heads in the direction of the bridge. A group of young people was standing on the bridge with fans held aloft. When a flute and a drum began a spirited duet, people all around Godo pulled their fans out and joined in the dance. Watching carefully, Godo saw that the crowd was beginning to drift onto the bridge, mingling with the young dancers. Now was his chance. Just as if he were facing multiple opponents in a sparring match, he threaded his way around the dancers. Everyone moved in predictable patterns. He could see his path clearly before him and began to pick up speed—

_Wham!_ Godo saw the young woman in front of him flail backwards. Instinctively, he threw an arm around her waist and pulled her upright—and found himself staring into the wide, dark eyes of his bride-to-be.

Godo wrenched his arm away, threw his hand in front of his face, and hurried past Official Faruno, sensing her eyes on him as he stumbled his way through the crowds on the bridge. What was she doing here in the city when the scholar-officials were supposed to be in the Palace gardens? And why, of all people, was she the one he ran into? Godo was so absorbed in his panic that he didn't realize he had passed Master Faruno's house. He made his way back to the riverfront and quickly found the master's house.

Master Faruno opened the door and, upon recognizing the Emperor, began to fall on his knees to perform the ritual bow, but Godo stopped him. The master ushered him inside, closed the door, and performed the ritual bow. "What brings you here, Your Majesty?" he asked.

"We have something urgent to discuss with you."

Godo sat down at the table, prepared to speak at once, but the master began to prepare tea. After he finished, he brought the tea to the table and served Godo first before serving himself. "What can I do for you, Your Majesty?" the master asked.

Godo began the same explanation he presented to Akiyoshi and the Empress Dowager. The Empire was in trouble, and Godo wanted his Empress to be his co-ruler. Master Faruno's daughter was an intelligent woman who had proved her capability and integrity both in Puhua Si and at the imperial court. If Master Faruno gave his consent, Godo would marry his daughter.

The master was shocked. "Your Majesty, this is an unexpected request. I am honored that you would choose my daughter when custom dictates that the Emperor should only marry the daughters of the Twelve Noble Families. But please understand that my daughter is all I have left of her mother. Do you know why she is named Kasumi?"

"We do not."

"After the birth of our son, my wife and I struggled to have another child. When my wife finally became pregnant, we thought this child must be the blessing of Leviathan." Master Faruno sighed. "We forgot that when Leviathan blesses, sometimes he claims a reward for his blessing. You were a small child, Your Majesty, but you may remember that in the seventeenth year of your father's reign, we had a very cruel winter. Our family ran out of coal shortly after the baby's birth. I asked around, but everyone else had run out too. My wife fell ill because the house was so cold." He bowed his head. "In that cold house she breathed her last. I named the baby after the mist of that last breath. Kasumi herself barely survived. But she has grown to be strong-willed and clever, just like her mother. That is why I say my daughter is all I have left of her mother."

"Master Faruno, We are sorry for your loss. As you know, Our own mother died in childbirth, too, and the late Emperor always thought of Us as all he had left of her. But We do not think our parents should hold on to the memory of the deceased. We should let those memories become hope for the future. That is what We think your daughter could be for the Empire."

Just as he finished, there was a knock on the door. "Father?" a woman's voice called. "It's me, Kasumi." Before either of the two men could move, the door opened and Official Faruno walked in.

Upon seeing Godo, Official Faruno hurriedly closed the door and performed the ritual bow. Godo stared determinedly at the table, his face burning with embarrassment, while Master Faruno cheerfully greeted his daughter. Then the master stood up to go into the next room. Despite Godo's protests, the master insisted that his daughter decide and closed the door firmly behind him.

Godo glanced in Official Faruno's direction. "Sit down."

They sat in silence, listening to the vigorous beating of the drums outside. The confidence with which Godo spoke to the master had suddenly disappeared, leaving him feeling awkward and vulnerable before the woman who was to become his wife. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke. "We will be brief. As you know, it is rare for an Emperor of age to be unmarried so long into his reign."

"I didn't know, Your Majesty," Official Faruno informed him.

"The noble families have offered Us their daughters in marriage," he continued. "They see that the Empire is weak, the court is corrupt, and the Emperor is young. Through marriage, they hope to take advantage of Us, but We intend to secure a political alliance. If your father—if you were to give your consent, We would marry you."

"If Your Majesty is looking for a political alliance, I should be your last choice," Official Faruno commented. "I am a low-born woman who does not care about the Empire."

Godo frowned. "What about what everything you did during your service in Puhua Si?"

"I did it to spite the government for neglecting the people of Puhua."

"But you acted as a government official in doing so," he pointed out. "You could continue to do good deeds as the Empress of Wutai."

"Why would I want to do that?"

The curtness of Official Faruno's reply shocked him. He thought that she was like him: determined to do good for the people of Wutai even in the face of indifference and corruption. He remembered the reason she gave him for becoming a scholar official. _To see if I could make it,_ she had said. And when she accepted Godo's offer for a promotion to the imperial court, she withheld her intentions. It was possible that she accepted the position for personal gain. But given what she did to earn it, surely it was just as likely that she didn't see it necessary or wise to advertise her good intentions.

"Earlier this evening, you were dancing with the people," Godo said. "You have something We do not: a connection with the people of Wutai." He took a deep breath. "I want to do good for the people, but as you know, my hands are tied because the scholar-officials do not think I am on the same level as them."

This was more than he had confided to Akiyoshi and the Empress Dowager. After the opium incident, he spent the rest of the year questioning his scholar-officials, replacing those who were in league with his uncle, and appointing new scholar-officials to the imperial court. He had wanted a court full of people who cared just as much as he did about reforming the government of the Empire. There weren't nearly as many as he had hoped. He had to settle for less. In the end, many of them ended up being like his uncle's cronies, looking down on him because of his youth and idealism. "I need your help," Godo admitted. "I do not know you well, but I believe you want to want to continue doing good for the people of Wutai. If you do, then we are on the same side."

Official Faruno's expression changed ever so slightly—Godo dared to think she looked impressed—before she recovered her usual expression of polite indifference. "I will accept your offer on one condition," she informed him. "If you want me to be an Emperor's wife, you will have to be a commoner's husband. One wife. No concubines."

The boldness of the request shocked Godo. "According to tradition, We are entitled to—"

"You already broke the rules by asking a woman of low birth to be your Empress," Official Faruno interrupted. "Tradition doesn't apply anymore. So I will be your wife if you will be a commoner's husband."

Godo knew that this boldness was what he wanted in his Empress, but he didn't expect her to be that bold. History frowned upon the Sixteenth Shimotsuki Emperor for compromising his bloodline because of his decision not to take concubines. Apart from that, he was remembered as one of the most diligent emperors of the Shimotsuki dynasty. Godo could do much worse than follow his example.

"Fine."

Official Faruno looked genuinely surprised. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Are you?"

She looked into his eyes with a searching gaze so direct that Godo had to fight the urge to look away. Those dark eyes with their intent gaze were a captivating feature in what was otherwise a plain face.

Whatever Official Faruno was looking for, she seemed to find it. "Yes," she said.

Godo almost breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." He reached for the bundle tied to his sash. "We were going to ask your father to give this to you."

He placed the bundle on the table and watched her face as she unwrapped it. Her expression softened ever so slightly. "The phoenix is the symbol of the Empress," Godo explained. "The pearl represents wisdom. We understand that the pearl is a symbol of Puhua Si as well. This is Our betrothal gift to you. Do not tell anyone of the engagement until We have told Our advisors."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Godo stood up, made his way to the door, and left the house with a nod of farewell. Outside, he leaned against the wall and released the sigh of relief he had held back. It was done.

Unsurprisingly, the council was dismayed when Godo met with them to declare his intention to marry Official Faruno, and horrified when the Empress Dowager confirmed her approval. Godo was untroubled by his council's reaction. He assured them that he still respected their opinions and hoped that they would continue to work with him and his future Empress in their shared goal to restore the Empire.


	7. The Emperor's Wedding

The twenty-first day of the eleventh month was bright and frigid. It would have been an ordinary winter day in Wutai's capital if it weren't the Emperor's wedding day.

As the court ladies finished helping Godo into his wedding clothes, a eunuch held up a mirror. Between the beaded strings hanging down from his hat and in front of his eyes, at first glance Godo could see only that the upper half of his clothes was black, the lower half scarlet. Gradually his eyes began to pick out the fine golden embroidery. On his chest was the large dragon-lotus emblem of the Kisaragi family. Then there were the symbols of the Emperor: the sun and the moon, stars, mountains, phoenixes, fire—the eunuch took away the mirror before Godo could find all of them.

The eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting escorted Godo out of his quarters and into the palanquin waiting for him outside. The eunuchs bore the palanquin to the Pagoda, where he left the palanquin. The Wutainese army's most elite unit, the Crescent Unit, arranged itself around him. The beginning of the ceremony retained the memory of when the Kisaragi Emperors were also Masters of Battle: the Emperor's wedding was framed as the union of the male force, hence the Emperor's procession from the Pagoda of Martial Might, and the female force, hence the bride's procession from the Palace of Earthly Peace. This remained the practice even after the Kisaragi Emperors ceased to be Masters of Battle.

The Place of the Earth God's Repose was filled with nobles, scholar-officials, and the Wutainese army. Soldiers lined the path from the Pagoda to the center of the square and from the Palace gate to the Temple complex. In the pavilion above the Palace gate Godo could see the Empress Dowager in her bright red robes, flanked by his siblings and their spouses. He knew the ceremony had officially begun when the bride's palanquin emerged from the Palace gate and stopped to allow the bride to disembark. Soon afterwards, with the members of the Crescent Unit in front of him and behind him, Godo began the procession to the center of the Square. With the solemn, slow pace, he struggled to keep his eyes focused ahead without glancing in the bride's direction. As they approached the clearing in the middle of the square, the soldiers in front of Godo stood aside. The ladies-in-waiting preceding the bride likewise stood aside to let her proceed.

As they both approached the center of the square, Godo stole a glance at his bride. Her lips, painted crimson, were in stark contrast to her powdered face. Her slender build was buried under twelve layers of scarlet, pale pink, and white silk. Her head bent slightly under the weight of an elaborate headdress decorated with pearls and golden phoenixes. Her black hair was tightly coiled and pinned up with the golden phoenix hairpin Godo had given her.

Side by side, Godo and his bride began the procession to the Temple of the Empress of Heaven. Upon reaching the temple, they ascended the steps and proceeded into the innermost sanctuary, stopping before a high table. On the other side of the table stood an elderly priestess and an attendant. The priestess placed a scroll on the table in front of Godo. He unrolled the scroll and read the short prayer aloud in a solemn voice:

"On the occasion of Our wedding, we come before you, O Goddess of the Heavens, at the Temple of Heavenly Harmony to pray for your protection."

He rolled up the scroll and placed it on the table. The priestess gave it to her attendant and reached inside the basket the attendant held in her other hand. She held a branch from a sacred tree and waved it in a gesture of blessing, then returned it to the basket. Next the priestess presented Godo with a small, shallow cup and poured a small amount of sake into it. He drained it in three sips. The cup was then presented to the bride and sake poured into it for her to drink in three sips. Yesterday the priestess had explained the ritual to Godo: the bride and groom drank three cups of sake, with the first cup of sake representing reverence for the ancestors, the second cup representing the bride and groom's vow to take care of each other, and the third cup representing their prayer for children.

Finally, Godo and his bride turned towards each other to perform the ritual bow three times. In the split second that his eyes caught hers, he thought he saw uncertainty in her wide, dark eyes. Before he could confirm what he thought he saw, he and his bride rose to conclude the ceremony and exited the sanctuary.

Immediately outside was the place where the spirits of Godo's ancestors resided. There Godo read from a scroll to inform his ancestors of his marriage, ask them to overlook the low birth of Kasumi's mother, and bless him and Kasumi with sons to ensure the continuation of the Kisaragi bloodline.

Afterwards, Godo and Kasumi left the temple and emerged into the square to begin the procession to the Palace. Upon returning to the Palace, they parted ways to attend separate audiences: Godo with his new father-in-law, and Kasumi with the Empress Dowager. After the audience, eunuchs escorted Godo to the bridal chamber in a distant wing of the Palace. The chamber was draped in scarlet. Lanterns hung from the high ceiling. The center of the room was empty. In the back corner was the large marriage bed, draped and spread with bright red silk. Shortly after Kasumi's arrival, the ladies-in-waiting set a table in the center of the room for a simple dinner of dumplings and noodles. Godo and Kasumi ate in silence. After dinner, a lady-in-waiting set the table with a plate of eight rice cakes and a cup of sake. When the rice cakes were finished, Godo sipped from the cup of sake and passed it to Kasumi. She sipped and passed the cup back to him. The ritual continued until the sake was finished. While one lady-in-waiting cleared the table, another removed Kasumi's makeup. A third carefully removed the headdress and the hairpin and draped Kasumi's long hair over her shoulder. Then the three ladies-in-waiting bowed, backed out of the room, and closed the doors.

Godo and his bride made their way to the foot of the bed, where they stood in awkward silence, avoiding each other's eyes. Finally Godo went behind Kasumi to untie her white train. When he finished, he laid it on the floor, came back to stand in front of Kasumi, and began undo the first sash of her kimono. When he struggled with the knot, she raised her hands from her sides to help him, but he shook his head, making the beaded strings of his hat rattle. "You're not supposed to help," he told her, though in reality he didn't know if the wedding custom of undressing the bride meant she couldn't help at all.

She sighed and muttered, more to herself than to Godo, "This will take all night."

"Are you in a hurry?"

He finally untied the sash and slipped his hands under the outermost kimono to remove it. He laid it on top of the train and began untying the second sash. His thoughts drifted back to the previous night. He was reading the book on the rules of the imperial household, particularly those concerning the Emperor's marriage. The book told him that during the three consecutive wedding nights, the newlywed couple would spend the whole of each night together. After that, they had sex only on specific dates that the court astrologers determined most auspicious for the conception of a son, and they were not permitted to fall asleep together after sex. Instead, as soon as the Empress was ready, her ladies-in-waiting escorted her to her own quarters to sleep. It was of the utmost importance for the Emperor to wake up alone to begin his day on time. Godo was appalled at the treatment that seemed more appropriate to a prostitute than to an Empress, but he understood that it was a precaution against falling in love. History—indeed, his own family history—showed that an Emperor in love was easily manipulated.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" Kasumi burst.

Godo snapped out of his memory to remove the next kimono. "I'm sure," he answered.

While he began to untie the next sash, he thought again of the previous night. After he put the book away, he was just about to put out the last lamp and go to sleep, but Akiyoshi and Akisada came to visit him. Akiyoshi explained that the Empress Dowager sent them to instruct Godo about what would happen on his wedding night. "As if you need help," Akisada said scornfully. "You were always the best-looking. So we really just want to know how many girls you had in Shuxiang, and which of the ladies-in-waiting you've already slept with."

"Why do I have to tell you that?" Godo asked, trying not to sound too defensive. Thinking he would open up if they shared their own conquests, and ignoring his protests, Akiyoshi and Akisada called for sake and sat down with Godo. Akiyoshi announced that he would go first, but had to down several drinks before he was in the right mood. He became pensive and melancholic as he began to describe the day he met a beautiful girl during his service in Pusa Ding. "Her name was Ai," he said, smiling wistfully. "A fitting name. She was love itself."

"Skip the poetry," Akisada scoffed, pouring himself another drink. "Let's straight to the point. When did you do it?"

Unruffled, Akiyoshi went on and on about Ai's beauty and how the two began to meet in secret. Godo choked on his sake when Akiyoshi began to go into the details of their first night. Akiyoshi ignored him and went on to describe how their relationship blossomed after that night. At the end of his service, he swore to Ai that he would return to her. He just needed to ask his father, the Empress, and his mother Consort Liang for their permission to marry her. As it turned out, they forbade both his marriage and his returning to Pusa Ding, and four years later the Empress Dowager arranged for him to marry a woman from from the noble Shen family instead. Akiyoshi wondered how his love was doing and sighed that she would live out the rest of her life alone, pining for him.

"You can just untie all the sashes first and take off the rest of the kimono at once," Kasumi said.

Godo untied the rest of the sashes and slipped his hands underneath the remaining kimono. In doing so, his fingers brushed Kasumi's bare shoulders. He and Kasumi both froze. After a moment's pause, he removed the kimono and laid them on top of the outer layers. Then he bent down to remove the hakama, leaving Kasumi in her underclothes. She sat on the edge of the bed while he turned away and began to undress.

After Akiyoshi's story, Akisada immediately took over to tell his brothers when he first snuck out of the Palace in disguise to visit a kisaeng parlor. He had fewer conquests during his military service in Yanshan, which was too small to have more than a few kisaeng parlors, but he resumed regular visits to the kisaeng parlors in the capital after his service. He ended by slyly suggesting that even after his wedding, once in a while he would sneak out of the Palace for a night of fun.

When his brothers turned expectantly to him, Godo finally admitted that he had no stories of his own. They stared at him in disbelief. "Well," said Akisada, "Good luck tomorrow night."

Godo knelt before Kasumi and raised his eyes to hers. "Tonight," he said, "I make you an Emperor's wife."

Kasumi held his gaze and responded, "And I make you a commoner's husband."

Godo leaned in, pressed his lips to hers, and pressed her down onto the bed.

* * *

Godo woke up at the usual time, well before sunrise. He stumbled out of bed to light a candle, belatedly remembering that he wasn't alone. He turned around. Kasumi's back was turned to him, but her steady breathing told him she was still fast asleep. Godo straightened his robes and left the bridal chamber, taking the candle with him.

Eunuchs accompanied him to his quarters, where he changed into a dark red robe. Then he left his quarters for the Palace shrine to pray to Leviathan. Next he went to the library to read the historical records. After that was breakfast in his office at S'zheng Hall. The ladies-in-waiting set the table, but his chief eunuch Jang stood by without giving him the daily list of officials to meet. When Godo asked him, Eunuch Jang responded, "Your Majesty, the court is not in session during the wedding celebrations."

Godo frowned. "No one told Us that."

"We thought you would know, Your Majesty."

"How would We know?" he asked, disgruntled. "This is Our first wedding!"

If the court wasn't in session, the entire day was his. So after breakfast, Godo went to the dojo to train.

When Kasumi opened her eyes, the bridal chamber was filled with the dim glow of morning light. From outside the door, a court lady was calling, "Your Majesty?"

Kasumi lay still and waited for the Emperor to answer the door. When no sound came from the other side of the bed, she rolled over to face the Emperor, only to find that she was alone. She laid her hand on the sheets. The Emperor had left some time ago.

The knocking repeated once more. "Your Majesty?"

"His Majesty isn't here," Kasumi called.

"We are looking for the Empress, Your Majesty."

"Oh," said Kasumi, feeling foolish. "One moment."

She sat up, pulled her yukata around her, and tied the sash. When she opened the door, an elderly court lady and several attendants were waiting. "We have come to prepare you for the congratulation ceremony," the elderly court lady informed her.

She introduced herself as First Palace Lady Hsu. She was to be Kasumi's chief attendant. She escorted Kasumi to the Empress's quarters and showed her to her room, where she helped Kasumi change into a scarlet robe embroidered with phoenixes. The final ceremony of the wedding celebrations was held inside the audience room, where the female members of the imperial household and the Twelve Noble Families lined up to offer their congratulations to the new Empress. First were the Emperor's two sisters, Princesses Riko and Rina. Next were Prince Akiyoshi's wife Princess Consort Shen and Prince Akisada's wife Princess Consort Ji. After them were the other princesses from lower branches of the imperial family. Once the members of the Kisaragi family finished, the female members of the Twelve Noble Families—now eight, excluding the Kisaragi family—came forward in their prescribed order. First was the Mutsuki family, a middle-aged woman with a daughter Kasumi's age. Next was the Yayoi family with the matriarch and her two daughters. Kasumi let her mind wander as the ceremony went on and on.

After the ceremony, Lady Hsu helped her change into a simpler robe. "Am I free for the rest of the day?" Kasumi asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lady Hsu responded. "We will return to the bridal chamber by seven o' clock."

"'We'?" Kasumi repeated.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is our duty to follow you wherever you go, to attend to your needs," she explained of the ladies-in-waiting behind her.

Accompanied by her entourage, Kasumi went to the library and asked the librarian if there were any books on the lives of the Empresses. He directed her to the genealogical records because, as he explained, historians never wrote much about the Empresses themselves. Their lives were recorded only after they entered the Emperor's household, and as they were seldom involved in politics, there was not much to write about except the children they bore.

Kasumi's court ladies waited at the entrance while Kasumi searched the shelves for the record of the current imperial family. When she found it, she read through it quickly. She already knew that the Emperor was the youngest of five children, but she didn't know that all five children had been born to the Fourteenth Emperor's concubines in two years. Prince Akiyoshi and Princess Rina were the children of Consort Liang, who died of an illness four years ago. Prince Akisada was the son of Consort Wu, who died almost ten years ago. Princess Riko was the daughter of Consort Yu, who was exiled from the Palace when she was found guilty of collaborating with the late Prince Gao-tsu in the opium smuggling. And the Emperor was the son of Consort Hara, who died shortly after giving birth to a stillborn son. Kasumi felt a pang of sympathy for the Emperor, who lost his mother the same way she lost hers, in childbirth.

The more she pored over the records, the more disturbed she was at what she found. The Empress of the Thirteenth Emperor died in childbirth. The Empress of the Twelfth Emperor bore five children, some within a year of each other. The first Empress of the Eleventh Emperor was seventeen when she married the forty-three-year-old Emperor. The second Empress of the Eleventh Emperor was fifteen when she married the sixty-year-old Emperor; two years later she bore him a son. Kasumi felt sick. What family would agree to marry their teenage daughters to husbands who were thirty, forty years older?

"Ah, there she is!"

Kasumi shoved the book back on the shelf and whirled around. Her new sisters-in-law were making their way through the shelves. "Reading about the lives of the Empresses?" Rina asked. "How did you like them?"

"They're interesting," Kasumi answered obliquely.

"You don't have to lie. They're depressing," Riko said.

"Not all of them," her sister reminded her.

"Fine, not all of them were depressing. Some are just a little unhappy."

"Have you read them?" Kasumi asked.

"All of them," Rina answered. "More to make ourselves feel better than anything else."

"What do you mean?"

"There are some things you can just expect as a Princess. You're free until you finish your military service. Then you get married, have children, and watch your husband take concubines. We know that much," Rina said simply. "But we don't have to just accept that. We are Kisaragi Princesses, allowed to attend the dojo alongside our brothers. Neither the Fumizuki dynasty nor the Shimotsuki dynasty allowed their daughters to do that. I think that means we can choose to find happiness even if we can't really choose the way our lives go. A lot of people don't have that choice."

"Basically, you should read the lives of the Princesses," Riko laughed. "They tend to be happier."

Kasumi smiled. "I will."

Riko looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. "So, how did it go last night?"

"What?"

"We won't tell him," Rina assured her. Apparently reading Kasumi's doubtful expression, she added, "I mean, we will, but we won't tell him that you told us."

"I think," said Kasumi, "this is between His Majesty and me."

Riko nodded. "Exactly. If you tell us and we tell our brother, it's between you and him."

Kasumi shook her head and turned to go, but Riko slipped in front of her, protesting, "I know we sound nosy, but we really do want to help."

Kasumi sighed. "I only have one thing to say. I don't think His Majesty knows his strength."

Riko and Rina traded glances. "We'll see what we can do," Rina promised.

At the archery range, Akiyoshi glanced behind him. "Here comes trouble," he muttered.

Godo turned around and saw that he was right: their two sisters were approaching with grins on their faces. Rina beamed at Godo and said, "The new Empress had quite a night last night."

His face reddened. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Riko replied. "We could tell just by looking at her. She looked like she had a long night."

"It wasn't that long," Godo retorted, his flush deepening.

"Be gentler tonight," Rina chided him. "You're not wrestling in Shuxiang anymore."

She and Riko burst into giggles. Godo clenched his fists. "I don't need your advice on how to…"

But he trailed off, sensing that his face was about to redden still more. His sisters turned around and began to leave, still laughing. "I thought Princesses were supposed to be pure-minded," he grumbled.

Akiyoshi raised his bow. "They _are_ more experienced than you."

"Shut up!"

In the evening, Godo returned to the bridal chamber. Kasumi arrived shortly afterwards. The ladies-in-waiting set the table with plates of dumplings and glass noodles. After Godo and Kasumi finished eating, the ladies-in-waiting replaced their dishes with a plate of rice cakes, two cups, and a bottle of sake. A lady-in-waiting poured the sake into the cups, gathered the empty dishes, and backed out of the room.

Kasumi was confused. "Isn't she supposed to stay until we finish the bottle?"

"I asked her to give us time to talk," Godo explained. "We hardly know each other. I think that's why, last night, when we…" He felt his face turning red and decided not to finish. "I don't think either of us wants to repeat that. This will help. You can start."

After a moment's pause, Kasumi asked, "What martial art did you study?"

Godo smiled proudly. "All of them. I was the top student in my class. Didn't your father tell you? He led the graduation ceremony."

"I do remember that a Prince won the final tournament one year," Kasumi mused. Suddenly she smiled. "I also remember that the dojo's top student was very late to the ceremony that same year."

"It wasn't my fault," Godo retorted. He changed the subject. "You grew up in the capital, right? So you went to the dojo too. What martial art did you study?"

"Karate," Kasumi answered. "But I dropped out to study for the civil service examinations."

"Your father let you drop out? Even though he was the Master of Magic?"

"He let me, but he wasn't too happy about it. He was happier after I learned Puhuan martial arts."

"Puhuan martial arts?" Godo repeated, intrigued. "What is it like?"

"Most people practice with shuang dao."

"Two dao? That's not so different from what they teach here."

"No, the shape of the sword is different," Kasumi insisted. "The blade widens towards the end." She traced the shape on the table with her fingers.

"Oh, a niuweidao. A commoner's sword," Godo said dismissively.

"You can't put down something just because it belongs to the commoners! A commoner with two niuweidao is as good as any Imperial Guard!"

He blinked, and Kasumi belatedly realized that she had scolded the Emperor of Wutai. She stammered a formal apology, but Godo wasn't offended. "I have my next question," he said. "How did you learn to read and write, much less learn the Master's writings so well?"

"My father dedicated himself to my education because of my mother. She was just a diver from Puhua, but she wanted to do so much more with her life. When my father married her and brought her to the capital, she tried to learn how to read and write, but she couldn't pick it up. After she died, my father decided to give me the education she always wished she could have. The scholars charged him twice the regular rate to teach me. We lived in a small house because my father couldn't keep a large one, even though he was the Master of Magic."

Godo looked down, feeling guilty. When he met her, he thought she was an arrogant girl who didn't know her place in society. Now he knew that she had fought convention only because it was unfair to begin with.

"It's my turn," Kasumi announced. "I noticed that your hands are rough."

Godo's face turned red. "I'm sorry."

"That's not what I meant. I just wanted to know why your hands are like that. I thought the hands of an Emperor would be softer."

"I keep up my martial arts training every day," Godo answered. "The Kisaragi family was a military family before it was the imperial family. So if we want the Empire to become stronger again, the imperial family needs to return to its roots."

"What do you want to achieve as a ruler?"

"That's a personal question," he teased, and stared into his cup while he thought. "I want to reverse Wutai's decline," he said. "I want to be an Emperor who can be called the protector of the people. And I want to hold the same honor as my ancestors, who were both Emperors and Masters of Battle until the Eleventh Emperor." He paused. "I want to be as great as my ancestors."

"Why stop there? You can be better than your ancestors."

"Don't say that. They might get angry."

Kasumi poured the last of the sake into their cups. "Do you have one last question, Your Majesty?"

"Yes. Why did you ask to be my only wife?"

"Are you having second thoughts already?"

"I was just curious."

She wrapped her hands around her cup and was silent while she considered her answer. Finally she said, "I've always wondered why women are considered equal in the army, but not in the Palace. _The Ballad of He Lian _says, 'When two hares run side by side, you cannot tell which one is male and which one is female.' When I said this to my tutors, they said that the analogy was only valid in battle. They told me that the female mind is inferior to the male mind, and that was why my father had to pay them twice as much to teach me. When I took the civil service examinations, I dressed as a boy so that the graders would not intentionally lower my results. When the results came back, I received high marks. So it seems to me that women's minds are not inferior to men's.

"So, if men and women are equal, why do we let men have many wives at once? Are there more women than men in the world? And even if there are, why do all the great love stories involve one man and one woman? The Herder and the Weaver, and the other Great Folktales—all of these involve a man marrying just one woman out of love. Is this because deep down, we believe that that kind of marriage is the ideal? If so, then why is it that the sign of a man's social status is the number of wives he has? Can you blame commoners for seeing harems and concubines as a sign of decadence and debauchery?

"I agreed to marry you because I think you can help Wutai's people," Kasumi continued. "And I think commoners will respect the Emperor who becomes a commoner's husband, who marries just one woman. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes, but I have one point to make. Maybe the ideal marriage is based on love. But nobles can't marry for love. We have bloodlines to protect and alliances to make. Maybe another reason noblemen take concubines is the hope that they will find love with one of them."

"Is love always immediate?" Kasumi asked. "Or can it grow slowly, over the course of many years? Can a husband fall in love with his wife even if he didn't love her when he married her?" Only after the question was asked did she realize that she might as well have asked the Emperor if he could fall in love with her. "Present company excluded," she amended.

"I don't know," Godo answered simply.

When they went to stand the foot of the bed, Godo looked into Kasumi's eyes and found a trace of uncertainty. He himself didn't feel any less nervous than he had been last night. Of course: a single conversation couldn't completely erase the nervousness of being newly married. But he knew that would pass, that soon they would be not just allies but friends. No matter how much time they would spent together, no matter how many nights they slept together to conceive children, they would never mistake their relationship for love, because their marriage would be based on mutual respect and on a shared desire to be benevolent and wise rulers. As far as Godo could see, such a marriage could not be anything but stable.


	8. Newlyweds

After the wedding, Godo and Kasumi began to settle into their daily routine. After Godo's morning prayer to Leviathan, Kasumi joined him in the library for the reading session. Then they would go to the Emperor's office at S'zheng Hall to have breakfast, prepare for the court session, and arrange individual meetings with officials. The court session was held in the throne hall, with both the Emperor and the Empress presiding. Over lunch they would discuss the meetings and split paperwork between the two of them to do on their own time. After lunch they would part ways. Unless it was an auspicious date, they wouldn't see each other again until the next morning. Godo spent his afternoons in the dojo. Kasumi spent hers teaching: when the more progressive noble families learned who she was, they came to the Palace to ask her to teach their young daughters, and she agreed. When the civil service examinations came around, it was Kasumi who took up the task of writing and grading the final examination. It was one duty Godo was relieved to give over.

It wasn't long before their routine was interrupted. Six weeks after their wedding, the Emperor and Empress, accompanied by an entourage of Imperial Guards, eunuchs, and ladies-in-waiting, embarked on a journey across Wutai to visit the Twelve Noble Families.

The imperial party concluded the first day of the journey at one of the many inns across the Empire dedicated solely for the Emperor's use. Once she had settled into her room, Kasumi went to Godo's room to review reports from the imperial court. Kasumi's chief attendant, First Palace Lady Hsu, interrupted to inform Kasumi and Godo that they would be sleeping together that night. They stared at Lady Hsu, aghast. "Is today an auspicious date?" Godo asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Godo traded glances with Kasumi. "We and the Empress would rather sleep together at the noble families' castles. We would be more comfortable there."

"I disagree," Kasumi said quickly.

"In any case," said Lady Hsu, "the Empress Dowager has requested that Your Majesties continue to keep the auspicious dates while traveling, no matter where we are staying the night."

After a moment of resigned silence, Godo thanked Lady Hsu and dismissed her. Once they were alone again, he turned to Kasumi. "Why not at the noble families' castles?" he demanded.

"The walls are very thin. Everyone would hear," Kasumi answered, blushing.

Godo shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. If today is an auspicious date, it's an auspicious date."

"How do the astrologers come up with those dates anyway? If it worked, I'd be pregnant already!"

"Whether it works or not, we have no choice. It's the Empress Dowager's order."

After they finished reviewing the reports, Godo began to extinguish the lamps while Kasumi slowly undressed herself, waiting until the lights were out. If they put the lights out, they reasoned, they could avoid seeing each other. Kasumi was resigned to the belief that this would always be the most awkward part of their marriage. She was glad she wasn't allowed to spend the whole night with Godo, so they were spared the embarrassment of waking up next to each other.

In the morning, the imperial procession resumed the journey south. It took a week to travel from the capital to the central province of Tayuan. Kasumi had never left the northernmost province of Wutai and found herself staring out of the palanquin at the passing scenery. The first part of the journey took them through the thawing farmlands of the Lotus River Valley. The second part of the journey took them through the mountainous province of Xiantong. The palanquin bearers did their best to keep the palanquin steady, but the constant twists and turns of the road made Kasumi nauseous after hours on end.

During a break, Godo left his palanquin and looked around for Kasumi. He found her still inside her palanquin, leaning her head against the wall and grimacing. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she mumbled, "just a little dizzy."

Godo found Doctor Yao, Kasumi's personal physician. After checking Kasumi's pulse, Doctor Yao told Godo, "She is just dizzy, Your Majesty. Ginger tea will help."

When Doctor Yao left to prepare the tea, Kasumi looked at Godo quizzically. "Did you think I was pregnant just because I'm dizzy?"

"No!" he lied. "I was just worried about…" He stopped. He didn't want to seem overly attentive. "I thought you were pregnant," he admitted, and hurried back to his palanquin.

Kasumi's nausea subsided soon after the procession left the mountains and entered the lake province of Tayuan. The provincial capital, also named Tayuan, was built next to the lake and was the home of the Satsuki family. Kasumi had seen paintings of the city with its countless canals and bridges. She wished she could peer outside the palanquin, but it was raining, and she couldn't open the window without rain seeping into the palanquin.

When they reached the keep of Ayame Castle, Kasumi and Godo disembarked from the palanquins and proceeded into the innermost audience chamber, where the wizened Lord Satsuki greeted them. "Your Majesty, I am honored," he said. "I think it fitting that you have chosen to stay with our family first, here in the heart of our great nation. As I am sure you know, our castle in Tayuan was the first of the great castles to be built. The Satsuki family left the capital only about twenty years after the start of the Second Age."

_That just means they had no confidence in the Shimotsuki Dynasty_, Godo thought. In Wutai's feudal period, the noble families left the capital one by one to escape the Shimotsuki Emperors' iron grip on court life. Outside the capital, the nobility could pretend they were Emperors of their own territory. They built castles equipped with armies of samurai and ninja and were constantly at war with each other.

Lord Satsuki presumed that the Emperor and Empress were hungry after their long journey, so he had the tables set for dinner at once. The rest of Lord Satsuki's family joined him: his three grown sons, their wives, and their children. The eldest grandchild was Misato, a young woman around Kasumi's age. "You may remember, Your Majesty, that we offered her to you as a bride," Lord Satsuki remarked with a smile. "We were considering an offer from the son of your Minister of the Left—a very high honor indeed—until we heard that your betrothal to Lady Mutsuki was postponed and that you might break the rotation. We didn't know that meant you would marry a woman from the lower nobility, much less the daughter of a Puhuanese diver. But I suppose anything goes these days, what with the Empire falling to pieces," he concluded with an offhanded chortle.

Kasumi turned to Misato. "You were fortunate to receive an offer from the son of the Minister of the Left. I hear that he is sending one of his sons abroad. Was your intended husband that son?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Misato answered.

"Then I hope you can still accept the offer of the minister's son. The Empire needs educated, cultured women like you to represent our nation overseas. Such a duty is just as important as that of the Empress."

Everyone in the room, Godo included, was speechless until Misato broke the silence to thank the Empress. A chastened Lord Satsuki cleared his throat and changed the subject.

In the morning, Lord Satsuki suggested that his first son show the Emperor and Empress around the castle grounds. The day was clear, allowing Godo and Kasumi to admire Ayame Castle's gleaming white plaster walls. The following afternoon, Lord Satsuki's second son, Mitsufiko, offered to take the Emperor and Empress around the city. Godo and Kasumi agreed. Accompanied by Imperial Guards, Mitsufiko led them out of the castle walls and into the city's main street.

"Where is everyone?" Kasumi asked. Though it was sunny outside, the citizens of Tayuan were nowhere to be seen.

"Inside," Godo answered. "The people are not permitted to see their Emperor outside of the Palace."

"Why?"

"It isn't appropriate for the people to see the face of the Son of Heaven."

"But you go on undercover investigations sometimes, don't you?"

She was referring to the trips that the most diligent Emperors took: in disguise, they would visit certain towns throughout the Empire to see if the officials on the lower levels of the bureaucracy were performing their duties. Godo had taken three such trips already, and he knew Kasumi meant to call him out on them. "That's different," he snapped.

"How?"

"It's one thing if the Emperor is in disguise. It's different when he's there for official purposes," he explained impatiently.

"So it's not that commoners aren't allowed to look at the Emperor, it's that they're not allowed to _know_ they're looking at the Emperor. Does that make sense to you? And do you really think no one is looking outside those windows right now?" Kasumi jabbed a finger at the nearest house.

Godo released a sigh through clenched teeth. "Let's talk about this later. We're supposed to be seeing the city right now."

"We're not seeing much of it anyway, without the people who live in it," Kasumi retorted.

"If you want to see the people so much, come back in disguise. See if you like the city when everyone is pushing and shouting!"

"I don't mind that. It's proof that the city is alive!"

Godo turned to Mitsufiko. "We're wasting time. Let's go."

While Mitsufiko led them across the city's half-moon bridges and koi-filled canals, Kasumi forgot her anger. She leaned over the railing and stared at the koi, thinking of Puhua with its much smaller koi canals. It took both Godo and Mitsufiko calling her for her to return to the present and continue on the tour.

Mitsufiko led them through each of the city's districts: the workshop district, the residential district, the culture district, the food district, and the shopping district. In each district, he apologized that they could hardly tell the difference between each one. On a normal day the shops would have their wares out on display. Kasumi looked pointedly at Godo while Mitsufiko said this, but Godo determinedly avoided eye contact.

Pouring rain over the next three days forced Kasumi and Godo to stay inside with their host, who apologized for the rainy weather. Finally, on the morning of their fifth day in Tayuan, Godo, Kasumi, Lord Satsuki's third son, and their entourage boarded a large boat to sail around the lake. Not far along, Kasumi began to feel nauseous. Godo summoned Doctor Yao to check her pulse again, but she determined that Kasumi was just seasick.

The following evening, Lord Satsuki hosted a lavish banquet to thank the Emperor and Empress for their visit and wish them well on the rest of their journey. The next morning, the imperial procession began the two-day journey south towards the village of Guangzong. That night at the inn, Godo came to Kasumi's room to review reports. Afterwards, he changed the subject to their stay with the Satsuki family. "You were too bold," he told her. "Be more careful next time. We're trying to stay friends with the noble families, not make them our enemies."

"I didn't think I was too bold. In any case, I thought you married me for my boldness," Kasumi retorted.

"Save the boldness for some other time. Right now, you have to be diplomatic."

She bristled at his condescension. "Just because you're my husband doesn't mean you can order me around!"

"Asking you to do something isn't 'ordering you around!'"

She knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she had to have the last word. "I spoke out because Lord Satsuki was on the verge of insulting me. If any of the other families try that, I have the right to defend myself. But if anyone goes after you, don't expect me to defend you."

The next day they reached their destination, Hatsufaru Castle. The home of the Mutsuki family was built on top of a hill northwest of the village of Guangzong. Unlike the barren grounds of Ayame Castle, Hatsufaru Castle was radiant with plum blossoms. Stepping out of the palanquin, Godo marveled at the pale pink flowers. He glanced at Kasumi, thinking that the beautiful sight would appease her anger, but she glared back at him.

There was sudden movement in his peripheral vision. Godo's eyes searched the blooming trees and found a figure clad in pale purple trying to hide behind the thin trunk of a plum tree. "What is it, Your Majesty?" a guard asked.

Godo shook his head. "Nothing dangerous."

He walked forward, and the figure emerged from behind the tree: a young woman wearing a hanbok with a white shift and lilac-colored skirt. Her long black hair fell freely to her waist in the hairstyle of an unmarried woman. But it was her eyes that most intrigued Godo: her curious, intent gaze that held his without dropping modestly.

She began to sink to her knees to perform the ritual bow, but Godo quickly shook his head. "Please don't ruin your clothes for my sake."

She smiled radiantly. "Your Majesty is too kind." Her voice was musical, refined. Godo could think of no other way to describe it than to say that she sounded like an Empress. "This is all wrong," she remarked laughingly. "You are scheduled to meet my parents first."

"You are one of the Mutsuki daughters? What is your name?"

"You are getting ahead of yourself, Your Majesty," the young woman teased with another radiant smile. "You may learn my name after you meet my parents."

She bowed and hurried away. Godo wanted to follow her, but for some strange reason, he found himself paralyzed as he slowly registered the presence of a sudden warmth in his chest. He returned to the palanquin. His wife was waiting for him at the entrance to the palace. Together they proceeded to the innermost room, where the middle-aged Lord Mutsuki and his wife greeted them warmly.

Godo returned their greeting with his sincerest apologies. "We understand that according to the customary rotation, Our bride was to be one of your daughters. We hope you took no offense. You have Our solemn promise that if you wish, any son of Ours will be betrothed to one of your granddaughters."

Kasumi hid her surprise. All of this was new to her.

"We took no offense, Your Majesty," Lord Mutsuki assured Godo. "We understand that you had compelling reasons to marry Her Majesty."

Shortly before dinner, two of Lord and Lady Mutsuki's three children arrived: their only son and their younger daughter. This younger daughter was the woman Godo had met among the plum blossoms. The Mutsuki family's older daughter was married and lived in the southernmost province Longhua, their son was married without children, and their youngest was finishing up her education in the West. She had come home for the Emperor's wedding and the imperial visit. Only then did Godo realize that she was Mutsuki Yoko, the woman who was supposed to be his bride.

Kasumi eagerly led the dinner conversation. "You mentioned that your daughter is studying abroad," she said to Lord and Lady Mutsuki. "Did all of your children have this opportunity?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lady Mutsuki responded proudly. "My husband and I have a high opinion of Western education, so each of our children was educated in the West."

"That's very progressive for a noble family."

"We had the idea early in our marriage, when we visited the West," Lord Mutsuki explained. "There the women are educated alongside the men. Suggest that here, and all the scholars will argue that society will come crashing down." He laughed. "We didn't see anything of the kind happening in the West. Clearly they must be in the right."

"Clearly," Kasumi agreed. She turned to Yoko and her brother. "Do you speak the Western language?"

"Yes. We all became fluent after living there for a few years," Yoko answered.

"We wanted our children to be prepared for a political career," Lord Mutsuki continued. "We are grateful that Your Majesty has paved the way for women to pursue such careers."

Kasumi understood that the career he had in mind for his daughters was marriage to the Emperor. "Have you considered taking the civil service examinations?" she asked Yoko.

"Actually, yes," Yoko responded with a smile. "I recently decided to take them. I hope to do so next year, or the year after."

After dinner, Kasumi visited Godo's room to review the reports from the imperial court. "You were quiet over dinner," she told him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you tired? I can review these by myself," she offered. He agreed and prepared to go to sleep.

On the fifth day of their stay, the rain cleared up, allowing Lord Mutsuki's son to show the Emperor and Empress around the village of Guangzong. This time Kasumi didn't advertise her annoyance that all the citizens were penned up in their houses. She had an idea, and if she wanted to carry it out without Godo suspecting, she had to stay quiet.

After dinner, Kasumi returned to her room and rifled through her trunk for one of her ao dai, the clothes the divers had given to her when she left Puhua. She chose a dark blue ao dai with white trousers. She removed her hairpin and let her long hair fail to her waist. Then she slipped out of the castle keep and gates. The guards took no notice of the commoner who passed them on her way out.

Kasumi followed the road leading through the forest and into the village. The sun had disappeared behind the western mountains, casting the land into blue-tinted shadow. By the time Kasumi reached Guangzong, the villagers were beginning to light the lanterns, filling the streets with a cheery, warm glow. Few people were outside because the spring evening was still cold, but Kasumi was content to linger outside houses, listening to the inhabitants talk and watching their shadows move across the paper windows. So absorbed was she in the solitude of listening to the villagers' lives that when she decided it was time to go back, she couldn't remember which direction she had come from. One wrong turn deposited her into a neighborhood where the houses were run-down and no light shone from the other side of the paper-lined windows. Kasumi turned around and found herself facing a man dressed in dark clothing. "Just the purse, rich girl," he said. "Give me that and I'll let you go."

"I don't have any money on me," Kasumi said, adopting the Puhua dialect.

The man scoffed. "Don't pretend to be a country girl. I know the smell of money. How much are you willing to pay to leave here alive?"

"Can I pay you in pain?"

"What?"

Kasumi kicked him in the face. He staggered back, clutching his jaw. "I really didn't bring a purse," Kasumi said calmly, backing away. "You may as well let me go."

"Scum from the capital!" he spat, drawing a knife. Kasumi quickly backed up, ran towards him, jumped, and took him down with a scissor kick. He went down, but her arm hit the ground in a way it wasn't supposed to. She bit back a cry of pain and, while he lay dazed on the ground, used her unhurt hand to pluck the knife out of his grasp and hold it to his throat. "Bitch," he gasped. "Fine! I'll let you go. I don't want your money, I don't want anything from you. Just let me go."

Kasumi rolled to her feet, still pointing the knife at him. He turned his back on her and stumbled away. Once he disappeared into the shadows, she tossed the knife away and reeled from the pain in her arm. _How am I going to explain this to Doctor Yao?_ she thought. _Maybe there's a medicine shop still open at this hour._

"Hey!"

Kasumi whirled around. A masked man behind her hurried up to her and removed his mask to reveal his face. It was Godo. Kasumi sighed in relief. "You scared me. Since when does the Emperor say things like 'Hey'?"

"Since he learned how to travel in disguise. The guards thought you'd been kidnapped, but I knew it: you just ran off on your own."

"And what are _you_ doing, running off on your own?"

"I can defend myself."

"So can I. If you were planning to save me, you're a little late."

"What happened to your arm?"

"I think it's broken."

"Who did it?" Godo demanded. "The penalty for harming the Empress is death!"

"It's my fault. I didn't land the scissor kick right. He's long gone. Let's just go back to the castle so I can see Doctor Yao."

"I'll take care of it. I came prepared." He went to a nearby house, sat on the stone steps, and opened a pouch.

"It's not urgent. You don't have to play doctor."

"I'm not playing. Sit down."

Kasumi sighed and sat down beside him. While she struggled to roll up the long, tight sleeve, he unsheathed a knife and slit the sleeve to the shoulder. "What are you doing?" she cried.

"Your tailor will make you a new one."

"I got this from Puhua! It was a gift from my mother's family!"

"It's just a dress!"

"It's _not _just a dress!"

Behind them, the house door slammed open and an elderly man glared at them. "Go away!" he barked.

Godo narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet. "We are the—"

With her uninjured arm, Kasumi dragged her husband away. The old man harrumphed and shut the door. Godo pulled his arm free and followed Kasumi to the bridge over the pond dividing the village. Noticing that there was no one around, Godo moved in front of Kasumi and picked her up. "Put me down!" she yelped. When Godo sat her on the railing, she glared down at him. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Then don't drag me away like that again!" he shot back. "Now will you let me treat your arm or not?"

Kasumi was ready to retaliate, but the throbbing pain won out. His touch brisk yet gentle, Godo located the injury. From the pouch he retrieved a bandage and a bottle. He spread the contents of the bottle on the bandage and wrapped the bandage tightly around Kasumi's arm. "Stay still. It'll take a few minutes," he said.

Kasumi couldn't help being impressed. "You seem like you have a talent for this."

"I was a soldier," Godo reminded her. "First aid is part of the training."

"So even a Prince had to go around bandaging people's wounds."

"Mostly my own." After a moment's pause, he added, "But that's my job, isn't it? The Empire is wounded. Or sick. And I want to heal it."

Kasumi gingerly moved her arm. Only a dull ache remained. "I don't know about that analogy, but you're doing well."

"Did you just compliment me?"

"Why are you surprised?"

"I thought you were mad at me for ruining your dress."

"First, it's called ao dai. Second, I'm still mad. Third, I still think you could be a better Emperor."

"How?"

"For starters, 'The Empire' isn't just some abstract thing. It's people. The man who chased us away just now. Even the man who tried to rob me. And me, your Empress, whose mother wore ao dai. How will you heal people if you don't even know who they are?"

"Then tell me. How should I find out who they are?"

"Maybe you could start by walking in the streets with them."

Godo was silent. In his head he heard the Shuxiang elder's voice: _We will tell stories of the Prince who walked our streets and wrestled in our tournaments, just like a commoner._ That was the reason he had married Kasumi in the first place, and the reason his father had chosen him to be the Emperor: not because he was the strongest, but because he had shown genuine interest in the welfare of the Empire's ordinary people. In the stress of learning how to rule and how to deal with his indifferent court officials, he had forgotten that.

He changed the subject. "Try moving your arm now." When Kasumi moved her arm freely without wincing, Godo removed the bandage and helped Kasumi down from the railing. "Did you say you used a scissor kick?" he said as they began the walk back to the castle. "But you never finished your training."

"Because I didn't want to, not because I was a bad student," she pointed out.

On the night before the imperial procession was to depart, Kasumi's tailor presented her with the ao dai whose sleeve Godo had torn. If she looked closely, she could still see evidence of the tear. She was surprised to find that she was relieved, not disappointed. She knew that when she looked at it she would remember the evening she fought off a thief and bickered with her husband while he tried to heal her arm.

The Mutsuki family saw the imperial procession off the next morning. Kasumi and Godo thanked the family for their hospitality and wished Yoko the best of luck on the civil service examinations. As they made their way down the hill, Godo opened the window of the palanquin and stared at the blossoms beginning to fall from the trees. Would he ever be able to return to this beautiful place again? Could he?

Their next destination was Isuzukure Castle, the home of the Minazuki family, on a hilltop overlooking the provincial capital of Longhua. Godo had never been this far south before. He knew little about the Empire's southernmost province except that there was a beautiful lake to the east, the fishermen of Longhua were particularly devoted to Leviathan, and his uncle had spent his service years in the village of Zunsheng.

The night before they were scheduled to arrive, after reviewing the imperial court's reports, Kasumi asked Godo to tell her what he knew about the Minazuki family. "I didn't know anything about the Satsuki family and the Mutsuki family," she said. "If you tell me what you know, I'll know what I should and shouldn't say."

"There's not much to know here," he answered. "We don't hear much from the families who live in the south. Especially the Minazuki family."

"Why not?"

"There's bad blood between us."

"Does it have to do with the coup?" Kasumi asked. Beginning in the First Age, the Kisaragi and Minazuki families had led the military jointly until the Minazuki family moved to Longhua in the Second Age. Decades later, the Kisaragi family mustered the force of the entire Wutainese army, overthrew the Emperor, and established a new dynasty.

"That's part of it. The Minazuki family never forgave us for planning the coup without them."

"Did they know that they were going to overthrow the Emperor seventy years beforehand?"

"Yes. The Kisaragi family had its eyes on the throne the moment the Shimotsuki dynasty began to show signs of weakness. But weakness alone wasn't enough. They decided to wait until the rest of the Empire decided it had had enough of the Shimotsuki Emperors. Fathers passed their plans down to their sons. They knew it was time when there was a huge rebellion in the capital. General Kisaragi Itaru took the rebels' side and carried out the coup. The fact that the Minazuki family had already left the capital didn't really have much to do with it."

"But that's not what they think, so we should be on our guard."

"Yes. But you always seem to be prepared for anything," Godo conceded with a smile.

The following afternoon, the Minazuki family welcomed the Emperor and Empress to their castle and apologized for the absence of their eldest son, Takuji, who was abroad. "The Mutsuki family also educated their children in the West," Kasumi said. "Is this common among the noble families?"

"Not that I know of. My son happens to be very interested in learning from the West to help the people of Longhua," Lord Minazuki explained. "But people from all corners of the Empire have been leaving since the reign of the Eleventh Emperor. We nobles were just slow to follow their example."

On the second morning of their stay, Godo shocked Kasumi, their entourage, and the Minazuki household by announcing that he and the Empress would tour Longhua in commoners' dress, and without informing the residents. A grudgingly impressed Lord Minazuki offered his most skilled samurai to accompany the Emperor and Empress on their tour.

On their way out of the castle walls, Kasumi drew close to Godo to murmur, "Are you only doing this because today is an auspicious date and you don't want me to be angry with you tonight?"

"That's not the only reason," Godo protested. Realizing what he said, he quickly amended, "I mean, that's not the reason at all!"

Kasumi laughed. "I was joking."

They emerged from the castle walls directly into the town's main street. One young man carrying a bucket of fish stopped in his tracks and turned to the two. The young man narrowed his eyes at them, looking uncertain. He soon gave up and continued on his business.

Godo turned to Kasumi, and the two of them stifled their laughter. Kasumi was relieved to see that Godo was amused instead of offended. They walked to the edge of the town and back to the castle gates with little more than a curious glance from the citizens in the streets. Back within the castle walls, Godo admitted, "I didn't think _no one_ would recognize me."

"Should we be more conspicuous next time?" Kasumi asked. "More guards? Imperial robes?"

Godo looked wistful. "No. I didn't mind it. It's been a while since I could go anywhere without people falling down at my feet."

After staying with the Minazuki family, the Emperor and Empress traveled to Zunsheng to stay first at Odakari Castle with the Hazuki family, and then at Konohatori Castle with the Uzuki family. After their stay with the Uzuki family, they began the journey northwest towards Shuxiang. As Godo stared out of the palanquin at the familiar rolling hills, he felt his heart beating faster. He hadn't been to Shuxiang since he was summoned to the capital to become the next Emperor, but he still treasured his memories of the village and its people. Shuxiang was where he first understood his place as a Prince among his subjects.

When they reached Momiji Castle, the Nagatsuki family's residence, Kasumi stepped out of the palanquin onto a carpet of fallen blossoms and hurried onto the terrace overlooking the town. It looked no different from any other village in the Empire, but everyone said that this was where Godo transformed from a spoiled Prince into a responsible leader. She smiled when he came to stand next to her. She couldn't wait to visit the town with him.

First they greeted the Nagatsuki family. Godo's grandmother, the Empress of the Thirteenth Emperor, came from this family, so he was more closely related to the Nagatsuki family than to any of the other noble families. This closeness was immediately apparent upon the Nagatsuki family's warm greeting. The greeting was noticeably cooler towards Kasumi, but she was used to it by now. Of the five families they had visited so far, none were as warm to her as the Mutsuki and Minazuki families.

The next day Kasumi and Godo went down to Shuxiang accompanied by a single Imperial Guard. Godo wore a cerulean hanbok with the imperial crest embroidered on its front, while Kasumi wore the simple leaf-green hanbok of a noblewoman. When they approached the village gates, the guards, recent graduates of the capital's dojo, fell to their knees in the ritual bow. "Ten thousand years!" they shouted in unison.

The shout reached the villagers passing by the gates. They looked at each other uncertainly and whispered among themselves. They seemed to conclude that the junior guards from the capital must recognize their Emperor, because they fell to their knees and repeated, "Ten thousand years!" Their shouts brought the other villagers out into the street, until it seemed the entire village was on its knees, foreheads lowered to the ground in humble greeting.

Kasumi glanced at Godo. "Too obvious this time?"

He didn't seem to hear her. He walked slowly through the streets that were so familiar to him yet so strange—strange now that he could no longer walk among them as he did before. He thought he should say something, anything that would tell them he was still Akitake, but he could think of nothing.

When they reached the village square, a man emerged from the elder's house with a look of disbelief on his face. Slowly, he approached Godo and broke into a wide smile. "It is the Prince Qiu'wu!" he exclaimed. "The Prince of Autumn Valor has returned to his people!"

He began to kneel. Godo instinctively reached forward to stop him, but remembered himself and spoke instead. "Please don't. I owe so much to you and the people of Shuxiang. Please have your people rise."

"Stand up!" the elder said to the villagers. "Stand up! Do not be afraid to look at His Majesty's face. This is the Prince who was one of us!"

The people rose to their feet and gazed at Godo eagerly. "They remember you now," the elder said. "You see, Your Majesty? We have kept your memory alive."

The elder invited Godo and Kasumi inside his house for tea while the guard remained outside. There he reintroduced his son Kyu-won, his wife, and their two little girls. "Now you are married too!" the elder exclaimed, beaming at Godo. "In the eleventh month last year, is that right?"

"Yes, nearly four months ago now."

The elder bowed his head to Kasumi. "Forgive me for not greeting you properly, Your Majesty."

"There is nothing wrong with greeting His Majesty first," she assured him. "I see he is well known here."

"He is. I am sure he has told you many stories," the elder said proudly.

"He himself has told me almost nothing. Others have told me that he grew up during his service here."

The elder looked at Godo accusingly. "Did you not tell her about your wrestling?"

"No," he answered the elder sheepishly.

"Wrestling?" Kasumi repeated.

"His Majesty participated in one of our annual wrestling tournaments," the elder explained, his eyes sparkling. "It is a special kind of wrestling practiced only here in Shuxiang. His Majesty learned quickly. During his last year here, he almost won the tournament against my son."

Kasumi looked reproachfully at Godo. "Why have I never heard this before?"

"It's been years," he protested. "And I would have told you eventually."

"The sowing festival is about two months away. But," the elder said, grinning, "we would be happy to host a special tournament just for your return, Your Majesty. I'm sure Her Majesty and the townspeople would like to see you repeat your success."

Godo smiled. "I'm tempted. But to participate in the tournament as a Prince is one thing. To participate as an Emperor is another."

"I understand." The elder smiled knowingly. "In any case, I am sure your wife has had her share of your wrestling prowess."

Godo choked on his tea and spluttered while Kasumi stared at the elder with her jaw hanging open.

The elder urged them to stay for dinner, but Godo and Kasumi were expected to dine with the Nagatsuki family again. "Then I won't keep you from your family. You are always welcome to return," the elder assured him. "But grow a beard next time you come back. You will look more like an Emperor."

This remark was so sudden that both Godo and Kasumi laughed. They bid farewell to the elder and began the journey back to the castle.

The next day was an auspicious date. As they lay next to each other in the dark, Kasumi spoke to Godo, startling him just as he was about to fall asleep.

"Tell me about your service in Shuxiang."

"But you're going back to your room soon."

"Just your favorite memory, then."

After a moment's pause, he told her about the sowing festival: the brightly colored hanbok, the women's swinging competition, the men's wrestling tournament. He spoke of how the village elder she met yesterday was much stronger than he looked, defeating Godo again and again when he first learned how to wrestle. He told the story of how in his last year in Shuxiang he rose in the ranks of the tournament only to lose to the elder's son in the split second that he realized the man's identity. "In that moment, I realized he was just like me," he said. "He was trying to live up to a legacy."

"Did you lose on purpose?" Kasumi asked.

"I couldn't say. It happened so fast."

From outside the room, Lady Hsu called, "Your Majesty?" Kasumi sat up and began to get dressed. In her imagination, she saw her young husband wrestling bare-chested on the sand. _I wish I'd seen him then,_ she thought. _He must have been incredible to watch, the way he grew up so quickly in such a short time._ She imagined the young women of Shuxiang giggling over him and admiring him. _They would have liked him. He was a young, handsome Prince. Now he is the Emperor… and my husband._

Godo spoke suddenly, startling her. "Someday, tell me about your service in Puhua."

Even though they couldn't see each other in the darkness, she smiled. "Of course," she agreed, and stood to go to the doors. The ladies-in-waiting opened them to let her out and closed the doors behind her.

At the end of their stay with the Nagatsuki family, the imperial party set off for the Shiwasu family's castle at Xiantong. Kasumi was expecting it to be the most awkward of the visits, since Godo was born to a concubine and not to Empress Dowager Shiwasu, but if the family held a grudge against Godo, they hid it. After this visit, the imperial party returned to the capital, having spent two and a half months traveling.


	9. The First Child

On the night of the first auspicious date since their return to the Palace, Kasumi came to Godo's room red-faced and flustered. "Is something wrong?" Godo asked.

"No," Kasumi said quickly. "How was the rest of your day?"

"The same as always," Godo responded, before remembering that it wasn't. "Actually, no. I sparred with Master Bunin today outside the Pagoda in an informal match."

"The new Master of Magic? How did it go?"

"It was tough! The Masters really are the best in Wutai."

"Do any of them have children?"

"Yes," Godo answered, confused. "You're the daughter of the previous Master of Magic, aren't you?"

"Oh, that's right."

Kasumi's eyes were wide and her hands were fisted in her lap. After a moment's hesitation, Godo stood up, walked around to sit behind Kasumi, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Wh-what are you doing?" she stammered.

"You're tense. You haven't been like this in a while." When they were first married, Godo noticed how tense his new wife was when she came to his room on auspicious dates. Over the months, the tension had mostly disappeared. But now, when Godo touched her shoulders, Kasumi yelped.

Trying not to imagine what the ladies-in-waiting outside were thinking, Godo awkwardly began to rub her shoulders and asked Kasumi about her afternoon to distract her. "It was f-fine," she stammered. "I visited P-Princess Consort Ji."

"How is she doing?"

"F-fine. She says the baby is d-doing fine too." Akisada and his wife were expecting a child within a few months.

Godo released Kasumi's shoulders and looked at her concernedly. "Are you sure you're all right? If you don't feel well—"

"No!" she blurted. "I mean, I'm fine, but… I can't sleep with you tonight."

"Is it that time?"

"No. No, I don't have that."

"You don't?"

Her blush deepened. "I mean, I used to, but… when I visited Princess Consort Ji, she said not to sleep with you because of the baby."

Godo was completely and utterly mystified. "Because of _her_ baby?"

"No…" Kasumi placed a hand on her stomach. "Because of this baby."

Godo stared at her, his face turning red, as all the pieces of their confused conversation fell into place. "Pregnant," was all he managed to say.

Kasumi gave a squeak that sounded something like "Yes."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Kasumi mumbled. "I don't know why it was so hard to say."

"Don't be sorry. This is good news!"

Kasumi tried to return Godo's smile. "Is something wrong?" Godo asked.

Part of Kasumi wanted to tell him that she was afraid she would die in childbirth like both of their mothers. The other part of her was too proud to admit her fear. She decided to be vague: "I'm just nervous."

"I am your husband and the father of this child," Godo said quietly. "I'm here for you. I will make sure you have everything you need. You don't have to be afraid."

In Godo's mind, the words had sounded earnest. Out loud, they sounded ridiculous. He and Kasumi stared at each other in awkward silence and, at the same moment, burst into laughter.

When their laughter faded into smiles, they wished each other good night, and she left the room. A moment of laughter couldn't erase the fear, but at least she knew she wasn't alone.

About a month after the Emperor and Empress came home from their travels across the country, the imperial household began the trip to the summer palace. First they stayed with the Yayoi family at Kurenofaru Castle. Since the Yayoi family was the only noble family that lived north of the capital, and the summer palace was just a day's journey from their castle, they had agreed to receive the Emperor and Empress during their summer retreat instead of putting them through the trouble of traveling to the northwest twice. They were especially pleased to be the first of the noble families to receive the news of the Empress's pregnancy. Kasumi was less pleased: thanks to her pregnancy, her motion sickness was worse than it was when they traveled through the mountains of Xiantong. She was relieved when they finally reached the summer palace, with its residences, halls, and temples nestled like rubies among the forested hills, and the sparkling lake with its many pavilions. Inside the Empress's quarters, while ladies-in-waiting arranged the room for her, Kasumi told Lady Hsu about her plans to walk around the lake by night. "It must be beautiful in the moonlight," she said.

Lady Hsu agreed, but warned, "The lake pavilions are beautiful until a certain hour of the night. If you go after a certain time, you may find that lovers… have a certain use for them."

Since the summer palace lacked its own library, Kasumi spent time with her sisters-in-law, Princesses Riko and Rina. Prince Akisada and his wife Princess Consort Ji stayed at the capital since they were expecting a child within the next two months. Prince Akiyoshi and his wife Princess Consort Shen were also at the palace, but Kasumi avoided the latter because of her decidedly frosty attitude. Riko and Rina told Kasumi it was because Princess Consort Shen seemed to think Kasumi looked down on her because her husband had concubines, and she couldn't be persuaded otherwise. On top of that, Riko and Rina said, the relationship between Akiyoshi and his wife was tense because he was still fixated on his first love in Pusa Ding. "So he doesn't spend time with his wife?" Kasumi asked.

"No, he does," Riko answered. "He spends time—if you want to put it that way—with her and all of his concubines because he has to produce a son. But imagine being married to someone who's completely apathetic to you."

There was a note of apprehension in her voice. Kasumi knew that even though Riko and Rina were Princesses, if they failed to produce heirs, their husbands would be permitted to take concubines. If any of those concubines captured their husbands' attention, the Princesses might spend the rest of their lives in neglect.

Without the morning reading sessions and court sessions to discuss, Kasumi and Godo spent most of their time apart. Once in a while they would eat a meal together, but Godo spent most of the time training with Akiyoshi and the guards.

The only festival that occurred at the summer palace was the Seventh Night Festival. As always, the imperial household would celebrate the festival in the Boat Pavilion on the lake. Over dinner with Kasumi on the night before the festival, Godo, having memorized every detail of the geishas' annual performance, gloomily described it to Kasumi. She was barely listening: she was thinking of last year's festival, when she chafed in the languid atmosphere of the imperial court's celebration in the gardens and snuck into the city to enjoy the street festival. "Have you ever gone to Nanchan for the festival?" she asked, naming the town not far from the summer palace.

"No. I've only attended one Seventh Night festival outside the imperial celebrations. That was last year."

"Right, that was when you crashed into me on the bridge."

"_I_ was being careful. _You_ weren't looking where you were going," Godo retorted.

"Of course I wasn't! My eyes were closed."

"Your eyes were closed," he repeated. "Why?"

"Because it was so exciting!" Kasumi's eyes glittered. "Let's go to the street festival in Nanchan."

He hesitated. "What about the baby?"

"The baby wants to go too."

"Will it be all right, with all the crowds?"

"We can stay out of the crowd."

"The guards won't let us go alone."

"We'll disguise ourselves as commoners and sneak past the guards. You've done that before."

"That was a lot of work."

"That's part of what makes it fun!"

He sighed. If he didn't agree, she would probably sneak out by herself. "Fine. We'll go."

The following afternoon, Godo told the Empress Dowager that he and Kasumi wanted to spend the evening together, privately. She raised her eyebrows, but if she suspected anything, she said nothing. Soon after the imperial celebrations began, Kasumi and Godo, dressed in commoners' yukata, snuck out through the servants' gate and made their way towards the town of Nanchan.

Just as in Wutai, the eaves of the buildings lining the street were decorated with colorful paper streamers, and the rich aroma of street food greeted their senses. Further down the main street, Kasumi and Godo saw people gathering along the town's riverbank to watch performers on the bridge. "Just like the capital," Godo remembered, and began to walk towards the bridge.

"Wait!" Kasumi called. When Godo turned around, she looked embarrassed. "Can we get something to eat? I'm hungry."

"You didn't eat before we left?"

"I did, but I'm hungry again. It's the baby," she said defensively. "It eats half of what I eat."

To her surprise, Godo laughed and walked to the nearest food stall to order food—and came right back to ask if Kasumi had brought money. With Kasumi's money, Godo bought enough fried pastries and dumplings for both of them. Kasumi quickly finished her share. Noticing her staring at his share longingly, Godo gave her the rest of his pastries.

After they finished eating, they made their way towards the bridge. As the crowds thickened, Godo pressed on ahead, but a group of people shoved in front of Kasumi. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited for the group to pass. She stood on her toes, searching for Godo. "Your—" she began to call, but, remembering the people around them, stopped herself just in time. _What am I supposed to call him? _she thought exasperatedly.

"Anata!" She blushed at the use of the term of endearment, but she couldn't think of anything else. "Anata!"

Someone tapped Godo on the shoulder. He was about to snap at the stranger for touching the Emperor, but the man spoke first. "Is that your wife calling you?" he asked.

Godo belatedly realized that the voice shouting "anata" belonged to Kasumi. He found his way back to her and saw the way she was wrapping her arms protectively around herself. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Let's go back to the palace. It's too crowded."

"We can't just turn back when we made it this far," Kasumi objected. "Let's go to the bridge."

Looking into her determined eyes, Godo saw that she couldn't be persuaded otherwise. He took her hand and led her through the crowds, staying directly in front of her to protect her slightly swelling stomach. They managed to reach the edge of the river. On the bridge, a man and a woman were chanting and shouting to the steady beat of a single, deep-voiced drum. It was the legend behind the Seventh Night Festival: the Herder and the Weaver had just met and were shyly getting to know each other. Soon they were singing passionately of their love for each other and their happiness. But when they began to neglect their duties, the gods separated them, forcing the Herder to one side of the river and the Weaver to the other side. The gods forbade them to meet except on the seventh night of the seventh month. Plaintively, the lovers sang of their longing for each other from opposite sides of the river. In the finale they were reunited on the bridge. As they clasped each other's hands, their faces were full of such joy that Godo almost believed he was seeing the lovers themselves.

At the conclusion of their final song, the performers bowed and left the bridge to enthusiastic cheers from the audience. A group of girls with small candles in one hand danced onto the bridge to a lively tune played by an ensemble of lutes. They were joined by a group of boys with small candles in both hands. The graceful movements of their hands made the candles swirl and soar like dancing fireflies. Kasumi glanced over her shoulder at Godo. He was entranced, his eyes fixed on the dancers.

After the performances concluded, Kasumi and Godo made their way through the crowds to return to the summer palace, holding hands so that they wouldn't be separated again. When they were alone on the road leading to the summer palace, Kasumi prodded, "Wasn't it worth it?"

"Yes, but it was too crowded. Next time we should reserve one of the tea houses overlooking the river."

Kasumi rolled her eyes. "Once a Prince, always a Prince," she muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"When you're traveling in disguise, do you do everything you would do as Emperor, wearing the clothes of a commoner?"

"No! I know how to act like a commoner."

"I'm not so sure. I'll teach you sometime."

"You already are. You called me 'anata' back there, didn't you? Only commoners do that."

Kasumi blushed. "Should I have called you 'Your Majesty' in the middle of a crowd like that?"

"You could have. No one would think that the Emperor was actually there."

The guards, after apologizing profusely for their failure to notice the Emperor and Empress's departure, opened the gates, and Godo and Kasumi went inside. Kasumi smiled shyly, wished Godo good night, and returned to her quarters. Godo was left wondering if he had ever seen that smile on her face. When he looked up at the sky, the stars of the silver river of the Seventh Night legend glimmered above. It was a familiar sight, yet like Kasumi's smile, he somehow felt as if he were seeing it for the first time.

The following day, they began the journey back to the capital. The long summer days grew short and cool, and the leaves on the trees began to turn fiery. It was on an autumn morning that Godo and Kasumi received the news that Akisada's wife Princess Consort Ji had given birth to a son. The following month, just a few days before the Emperor's birthday, the imperial family had a banquet to celebrate the one-month birthday of the new Prince. Although Princess Consort Ji was absent because she was still recovering from the difficult birth, Akisada was in high spirits. He was clearly pleased that he was the first of his siblings to have a son, and told Kasumi that if the baby she was carrying wasn't a son, Akisada's son would be the presumed heir to the throne. After the banquet, Godo apologized to Kasumi for his brother's behavior, but she assured him that she wasn't offended: "I know people like him. They need to step on everyone else to make themselves feel better."

"But that doesn't make it fine," he protested. "I'm going to talk to him."

He resolved to do so the following afternoon, but in the morning, immediately after the court session adjourned, Eunuch Jang came bearing the news of Princess Consort Ji's death. Kasumi turned pale and pressed her hand to her swollen abdomen. Godo wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but he was at a loss for words.

In light of Princess Consort Ji's death, Godo asked Eunuch Jang to tone down the celebrations for the Emperor's birthday. The festivities were limited to a relatively modest dinner instead of the usual banquet and opera performance. Akisada was absent. When Godo asked each of his other siblings where he was, none of them had an answer. When they finally saw him again at his wife's funeral, he was unshaven and smelled of alcohol. Kasumi later asked Godo if Akisada had loved his wife, to descend into such a state over her death. Godo, remembering how Akisada had boasted of his escapades at kisaeng parlors, didn't know.

Winter had descended with its dry, bitter cold. Compounded with the aches and pains of late pregnancy, it was the most miserable winter Kasumi had ever known. On the day of the banquet in honor of the Emperor and Empress's first wedding anniversary, she did her best to keep a pleasant expression on her face. She must have done poorly, because Godo kept glancing over at her. On the way back to their quarters, he asked her, "Are you all right?"

"Doctor Yao warned me it would hurt towards the end. It's nothing I can't handle."

Godo stopped and turned to face her. "You still have a month to go, right? You should take the rest of the month off. I can handle the court for a month."

Kasumi agreed. "But come visit me before and after the court sessions. I still want to know what you're discussing."

As Kasumi's attendant Lady Hsu helped her prepare for bed, she remarked, "Your Majesty has been blessed with good fortune. Not many Empresses were pregnant by the time of their first anniversary."

"But all of them worried whether they would be able to present the Emperor with a son," Kasumi replied. "As do I."

As she spoke, there was a flutter of movement inside her, as if the baby heard her. She laid a hand on her stomach. _Please be a boy,_ she thought, wincing guiltily.

Over the next few weeks, Kasumi and Godo had breakfast and lunch together to discuss the court sessions. During one of these lunches, Kasumi's abdomen began to tighten and release as if by its own accord. When she froze, Godo asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered uncertainly.

Close to the end of the meal, Kasumi dropped her chopsticks and pressed her hand to her stomach. Godo jumped to his feet, ran to the doors, and asked the court ladies outside to bring Doctor Yao. He returned to Kasumi's side, and she turned to him with fear in her eyes. "I think the baby is coming," she whispered.

"You'll be fine," Godo assured her. "The most talented physician in the Empire is taking care of you. You and the baby will be fine."

Doctor Yao and her assistants arrived to take Kasumi to the room where she was to give birth. Godo began to follow, but Doctor Yao stopped him. "Your Majesty, the baby will likely be born late tonight or early tomorrow morning. You may go about the rest of your day. We will inform you when the Empress has begun to give birth."

Later that afternoon, Riko and Rina arrived to find their brother pacing in the courtyard outside his quarters. "What's happening to her?" he asked.

"We just got here," Rina reminded him. "When did she go into labor?"

"Around lunchtime."

"Then she still has a while to go," Riko remarked. "Why did you tell us to come right away? We thought she was already giving birth!"

That evening, Godo, Riko, and Rina sat down in a room next door to the one where Kasumi was to give birth. Two plainclothes soldiers stood by. "What are the soldiers for?" Godo asked.

"Just in case," Rina responded evasively.

"Just in case what?" Godo pressed, but she didn't respond.

Despite resolving to stay up all night, he fell asleep. A loud cry from the other side of the wall jolted him awake. He stumbled to his feet and ran to the doors, but Riko beat him to it and blocked his way. "What are you doing?" Godo demanded.

"You'll only be in the way," Riko told him flatly. "Let Doctor Yao take care of her."

Kasumi let out another long moan of pain. Godo stepped forward, but Riko held out her palms to keep him away. "What do you think you can do?"

"She's in pain!" Godo shouted. "And she's afraid—"

"Can you take away the pain? Or make her less afraid?"

The guards took hold of Godo, but he wrenched free, pushed past Riko, and threw open the doors. He just glimpsed Doctor Yao's attendants holding Kasumi upright before the guards pulled him back into the room and Riko slammed the doors shut. Godo clenched his fists and listened to another wail. "How much longer?" he asked.

"From what I saw, she hasn't even started giving birth yet. She's just getting close."

On the other side of the wall, Kasumi moaned, sobbed that she couldn't do it, begged them to make it stop. The women in the room talked over her cries, instructed her to stay calm and not cry, told her to push. Godo stared at the wall in shock. _What have I done to her? What if she dies?_

_If she died… I could marry Mutsuki Yoko._

Godo shook his head to banish the awful thought and think of Kasumi instead. After what seemed like hours, a raw wailing sound came from the other side of the wall. Godo released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding as he listened to the cries of his newborn child. He jumped to his feet, but the soldiers blocked the door. "It isn't over yet," Riko informed him. "Wait until Doctor Yao brings you the baby."

Finally, the soldiers stepped away from the doors to admit Doctor Yao. In her arms was a small bundle. Godo caught a glimpse of Kasumi lying on a mat on the floor before the doors closed again. "A son, Your Majesty," Doctor Yao said, gently laying the bundle in his arms.

Violet eyes peered up at Godo from a tiny red face. _My child,_ Godo thought. _My son… and my Empress's son._

Doctor Yao held out her arms to take the baby. "You may see Her Majesty now if you wish."

Kasumi was lying on a mat in the other room. Godo crossed the room and sat down by her side. "Are you all right?"

He felt ashamed for even asking. Kasumi looked completely and utterly exhausted: her hair was stringy, her face glistened with sweat, and her eyes were half-closed. "It hurts," she mumbled.

Godo looked up at Doctor Yao anxiously. "She is doing fine right now, Your Majesty," she assured him. "But only the next month will tell."

He looked back down at Kasumi. He wouldn't see her for the next month: according to the imperial family's custom, women who had just given birth spent a month in seclusion in order to recover. "Take care," he said. "I'll see you in a month."

Kasumi remembered little about the following days except for feeling cold and achy. When she fully recovered her senses, Doctor Yao informed her that she developed a fever soon after giving birth, and that she missed both her birthday and the New Year. "But His Majesty came to visit you during the New Year's celebrations," she told Kasumi.

"I thought he wasn't allowed to visit."

"He wasn't, but he insisted on bringing you mochi."

Now that Doctor Yao mentioned it, Kasumi did remember the blurry sight of her husband's face, the sound of his voice, and the taste and texture of the sweet, soft mochi. She was touched that her husband had visited her when he could have been enjoying the New Year's celebrations. _Or should I be touched? Was he just doing what a husband should do?_

The baby woke up when the wet nurse laid him in Kasumi's arms. He blinked up at her, and she saw that he had his father's eyes. She stared at his tiny nose and ears. "He's so small," she murmured.

The baby began to fuss. Kasumi shushed and rocked him gently, but it felt unnatural to her. When the baby's whimpers turned into wails, she gave him back to the wet nurse.

Although Godo didn't try to visit her again, he sent her letters to tell her what was happening at the imperial court in her absence. At the bottom of the letter she received on her thirtieth day in recovery was an extra line: "Until tomorrow."

On the baby's one-month birthday, the Empress Dowager, Prince Akiyoshi, Princesses Riko and Rina, and members of the extended imperial family gathered in the banquet hall to see the baby Prince and congratulate his parents. The Empress Dowager gave him the name Farruo and the title Chun-xiong. During the banquet, Kasumi was accosted by Godo's family, who wanted to hear about the baby's birth. Between their questions and the gifts, she hardly had time to speak with Godo, let alone look at him, until he approached her after the banquet and asked her to come to his room later that evening.

When Kasumi arrived, Godo was sitting at the table with a bottle of sake and two cups in front of him. Remembering their second wedding night, she smiled, sat down, and poured the sake. Godo raised his cup. "To your health," he said, "and to our son."

Kasumi savored the warmth of the sake and tried to dismiss the strangeness of the words "our son." "How have you been?" Godo asked. "You never answered any of my letters."

Kasumi was startled that he had expected a response. "I've been recovering. There wasn't much to report."

"Have you spent time with the baby?"

The sake seemed to turn sour in Kasumi's mouth. "Not really. I'm not good with children."

"You can learn."

"Is it something that can be learned?" she asked doubtfully.

"Do commoners' mothers learn to be good with children?"

She looked down. "I wouldn't know."

"It was a rhetorical question."

She refilled their cups. "By the way, Doctor Yao said that you visited me during the New Year to give me mochi."

For some reason, Godo looked mortified. "Do you remember that?"

"Just barely. I remember you were there, and I remember the taste of the mochi." Kasumi smiled to soften her next words. "I appreciate it, but that could have been dangerous. People sometimes die by choking on mochi."

"I made sure you wouldn't choke on them," Godo retorted, turning deep red.

"How?" Suddenly Kasumi remembered the mochi being soft instead of chewy. "You chewed them for me," she realized, "and…" Her hand flew to her mouth, and it was her turn to blush fiercely. "That's disgusting!" she exclaimed.

"What do you think we do when we kiss?" Godo shot back.

"That's _not_ the same thing!"

"Was I supposed to just leave after all the trouble I went through to visit you?" he demanded. "I had to sneak out of the celebrations, steal mochi from the kitchen, and convince the court ladies to let me into your room!"

"You would rather kiss me in front of Doctor Yao than just leave?"

He remained silent while his face turned still redder. He looked so sullen that Kasumi bit her lip in an attempt to control her laughter, but failed and burst into giggles. Despite his embarrassment, Godo found himself laughing with her.


	10. The Sun to the Mist

That spring, Lady Mutsuki Yoko arrived in the capital to stay with a relative. Shortly after her arrival, she requested an audience with the Emperor and the Empress. Kasumi greeted her warmly while Godo remained silent. He had thought that the warmth he felt upon meeting her at Hatsufaru Castle was just a fleeting feeling, but now it was all he could do just to breathe. He could hardly believe she was here when he thought he would never see her again. After their audience, Kasumi, having noticed that Godo barely talked, asked him what was the matter, but he denied that anything was wrong.

He began to see her at the dojo. When he finally summoned the courage to speak with her, all his inhibitions melted away, and soon he felt as if they had known each other all their lives. She was lively, spirited, refreshingly forward—all traits, Godo supposed, she had developed during her time in the West. As the summer heat began to blanket the capital in humid heat, the two began to spend the hottest hours of the afternoon in the shade, deep in conversation. The day before the imperial household departed for the summer palace, they shared a reluctant goodbye. Godo offered to ask if the summer palace might be able to accommodate Yoko, but she declined.

A few days after their arrival at the summer palace, Kasumi told Godo that she wanted to visit Puhua. She missed it, she explained, and would have gone the previous year if not for her pregnancy. She invited Godo to come with her, but he declined. "You'll have a much harder time traveling around with me," he said. Kasumi was disappointed, but he had a point. Their travels across Wutai to visit the Twelve Noble Families showed her just how cumbersome it was for the Emperor to travel.

She had planned to stay for six days, but returned three days earlier than she had planned. As they sat down to lunch together on the day she returned, Godo asked, "How was it?"

Kasumi sighed and poked her food. "Not what I thought it would be."

"How so?"

"I thought my friends and family would be able to pick up where we left off," she said. "I didn't want them to treat me any differently than they did before. But they treated me like an Empress." She laughed bitterly. "I mean that in a bad way. Was it too much to ask them not to treat me any differently than they did when I was just Official Faruno?"

Godo was silent. When Kasumi began to wonder if she should change the subject, he spoke. "It's normal to want to return to the way things used to be. But things change. Princes become Emperors. People get married and have children. Our places in life are always changing. We have to know when to let go of the past so we can enjoy the present and look forward to the future."

Kasumi was surprised at his insight. "Is that why you turned down the village elder's offer to hold another wrestling tournament in Shuxiang?" she asked.

"That's part of it." He laughed. "But mostly, I don't think I could win again."

"I think you could have." Kasumi smiled. "I may never be able to watch you wrestle, but one of these days, I want to watch you spar."

"Haven't you seen me spar before?" She shook her head. Godo peered at her in pretend suspicion. "Are you my wife?"

Kasumi laughed for the first time since she left for Puhua. After lunch she and Godo visited Farruo in the nursery. When Godo coaxed a giggle out of the baby boy, she realized, _What I was looking for in Puhua was here all along. Now, my most trusted friend and my closest family is my husband._

She found herself looking forward to the Seventh Night Festival and hoping that Godo would agree to visit Nanchan again. But when she brought it up, he avoided her eyes and said he would rather stay at the summer palace this year. As it turned out, thunderstorms and pouring rain put an end to all festivities. Kasumi spent the evening inside her room while the sky boomed overhead and the tears of the Weaver and the Herder poured down.

The imperial household returned to the capital at the end of the summer. After the banquet for the Emperor's birthday, Kasumi asked Godo to come to her room. There she presented him with her gift: two Puhuan swords. During her visit to Puhua, she had asked and received permission from her mother's family to take her grandfather's swords, and the imperial blacksmith restored them to a glory they had never known in the hands of civilians. "You made fun of them once," Kasumi reminded him. "Now what do you think?"

He unsheathed one and held its blade to catch the light. "It's beautiful," he murmured admiringly. "But heavier than I thought. You fight with one in each hand?" He shook his head in awe. "That must take years of training. This gift is wasted on me."

"It's all right," she assured him. "I just want you to have them, even if you never use them."

He sheathed the sword and laid it reverently next to its twin. "Thank you. I'll take good care of them."

As the leaves fell from the trees and frost began to appear on the ground, Kasumi received news that her father's long illness had taken a turn for the worse. With the Empress Dowager's permission, Kasumi had her father moved to the Palace, where he would be more comfortable. Kasumi visited him every afternoon before her tutoring sessions with the nobles' daughters. Sometimes Godo visited with her. Sometimes Kasumi brought Farruo. The sight of the baby excitedly crawling around the room never failed to bring a smile to Kasumi's father's face. Kasumi's brother and his young family came from Bishan to take care of the house and occasionally came to visit. Kasumi's father was happiest when all four of his grandchildren were together.

One day, when Kasumi came alone, her father asked her, "Are you happy?"

The question startled Kasumi. Her father continued, "You wanted to become a scholar-official, and you once told me you wouldn't mind if it meant you couldn't marry and have children. Now you are the Empress, the Emperor's only wife and the mother of his son. But are you happy?"

Kasumi didn't even have to think. "Yes," she answered. "It wasn't the happiness I was looking for, or the happiness I even thought was possible. But I am happy."

Her father smiled weakly. "I'm glad. I'll make sure to tell your mother."

When he passed away, Kasumi took comfort in the thought that he was finally with her mother again. She knew from the way her father talked about her mother that they had never loved each other passionately, but they trusted and respected each other. She had always thought that if she ever married, she would want her marriage to be like theirs.

That night, Godo came to Kasumi's room and dismissed Lady Hsu. After Lady Hsu left, he said nothing, simply opening his arms. As he held Kasumi, she thought, _My father can rest in peace. He has left me in the care of a good man._

The following afternoon, while Kasumi was reading in her room, a eunuch announced that Akisada had come to visit her. Kasumi had to ask him to repeat the name before she believed it. Her brother-in-law entered, sat down across the table from Kasumi, and dismissed Lady Hsu. When Lady Hsu hesitated and glanced at Kasumi, Kasumi hesitantly dismissed her.

While Lady Hsu backed out of the room, Kasumi eyed Akisada warily. He returned her suspicious gaze with an even one. As soon as the doors closed, he spoke. "Are you well, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You seem to be handling the news well."

"My father was elderly. I knew his time would come soon."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Has something else happened?"

"You mean you haven't heard? My brother and Lady Mutsuki?" When Kasumi didn't respond, he shook his head. "I am so sorry. I thought you'd heard."

"That can't be true," she said stiffly.

"They are planning to meet tonight," Akisada insisted. "I see them talk every afternoon at the dojo, and I know they meet on each night of the new moon. I can prove it to you."

_I know how this works,_ Kasumi thought. _He'll tell them to come to the same place and try to frame them. It's an obvious trick._

_But if they aren't having an affair, I'll be able to tell. If they are…_ Kasumi's blood ran cold at the thought. _If they are, I need to know._ "Where are they meeting?" she asked.

"At the library, inside the Eight-Corner Pavilion."

After her dinner alone, Kasumi met Akisada outside the library, and the two of them waited in the study beyond the entrance hall. Kasumi stood tensely, prepared to retaliate if Akisada made any move towards her, but he stayed where he was, staring at the paper screen doors. "Lady Mutsuki will enter from the front," he whispered. "My brother will enter from the side."

Kasumi knew her husband's routine: after dinner, he prayed, and then he had an hour at his leisure before he went to sleep. If Akisada was right, Godo would arrive within the hour.

_What am I doing?_ she thought suddenly. _My father has just died, and I'm trying to catch my husband having an affair on a tip from my brother-in-law, whom I have no reason to trust. How could I do that to my husband?_

She turned to Akisada to tell him she was leaving, but he raised a hand to silence her. They heard the front doors open and someone walk inside. The shadows against the shoji doors revealed a woman's silhouette. She walked briskly down the long hallway to the Eight-Corner Pavilion. Kasumi heard the doors close quietly at the end of the hall. "My brother will arrive any minute," Akisada whispered. "He might even be there already."

He opened the door. Kasumi peered down the hall at the doors leading to the pavilion. A faint light shone from behind the paper doors. Stealthily and silently, Kasumi made her way down the hall and stood before the doors to the pavilion.

"It's the law." She recognized her husband's voice. "I can't get a divorce because she bore me a son, and she hasn't been unfaithful."

"Are you sure about that?" That was Yoko's voice.

"I'm sure."

"What about the tradition that the Empress has to come from one of the Twelve Noble Families? If a Prince married outside the Twelve, when he became Emperor he would demote his primary consort to the status of a concubine in order to marry a daughter of the Twelve, even if his first wife had borne him children. Couldn't we use that to our advantage?"

"I don't know. I'd have to consult the historical records."

"Why do you have to do that? You're the Emperor—can't you just do what you want?"

"It's not that simple."

"You could argue that the Empress is unsuitable for her role," Yoko suggested. "If you could get enough scholar-officials on your side—"

"They won't depose an Empress who is good at what she does. And even if they did, my wife would be sent into exile, and one day I would have to explain to my son what I did to his mother. Is that the kind of man you think I am?"

"So what, then?" She sounded exasperated. "I'm trying to find a way for us to be together, but all you can do is say that your hands are tied."

"Yoko." Kasumi could hear the tenderness in her husband's voice. "Please give me some time. We will be together, just as I promised."

She heard nothing more, but in her mind she saw them kissing. _It should have been obvious. I should have noticed something, anything. But when he held me yesterday I didn't notice anything different about him. For the last few months I haven't noticed anything different about him. Why?_

_Because I don't know him as well as I thought._

_Wham!_ Their clothes half undone, the two stumbled apart at the sound of the doors slamming open—and froze at the sight of Kasumi's expressionless face.

Kasumi spoke, her voice perfectly level, perfectly calm. "Lady Mutsuki, please leave. I need to speak with His Majesty."

Yoko glared back defiantly. "Whatever you have to say to him, you can say to me too."

"You have no right to stand between the Empress and her husband. I will ask you again. Please leave."

"Yoko," Godo murmured. "Please."

Yoko looked at him, her eyes full of worry, but she retied her hanbok and made her way out of the library. Godo quickly straightened his own clothes. Once the front door closed behind Yoko, he said quickly, "It wasn't her. I was the one who started—"

"Do you think I care who started it?"

The coldness of Kasumi's tone left him speechless. She continued, "I will ask you what I want to know. Does anyone know about this?"

"No."

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"Since you left for Puhua Si."

"Is there any chance that she is pregnant?"

"No," Godo said quietly. "We made sure she wouldn't."

The look in Kasumi's dark eyes was one of cold fury. "You cannot divorce me. I have not had any affairs, and I bore you a son."

"I know."

"You agreed that I would be your only wife, but you also promised Lady Mutsuki that you would be with her. To keep one of those two promises, you must break the other." Her voice turned scathingly bitter. "If the Emperor's word meant anything before, it means nothing now. So go on and make her your concubine."

Godo clenched his teeth. "Don't be sarcastic with me. If you tell me to make her my concubine, I will!"

"Take as many concubines as you want! I couldn't care less."

Kasumi turned to go, but stopped and spoke without looking at him. "You once told me you wanted to be like your ancestors. I said you could be better than them. I was wrong. They may have had concubines, but at least they had enough honor not to tell their wives they would be faithful. You have no such honor," she spat, and stormed away.

"My Empress!" Godo went after her, but a figure in the shadows caught his eye. He strode up to Akisada and grabbed him by the collar. "Bastard! Are you the one who brought her here?"

"You had an affair, and you met with your mistress the day after your wife's father died. Does that make me the bastard?"

"Shut up!"

"Her Majesty was bound to find out. Better sooner than later, don't you think?" Smirking, Akisada freed himself and sauntered out of the library, leaving Godo to stare numbly at the wall.

_What have I done?_

He wanted to believe it was partly Kasumi's fault. If she hadn't been in Puhua when Yoko suddenly visited the summer palace one morning, the night might have gone differently. That night, thoughts of Yoko kept Godo awake, so he went outside to walk along the lake. When it began to rain, he took shelter in the lakeside pavilion. She was there. They slowly approached each other. When their lips met, she kissed him as his wife never did. The rest happened so quickly that Godo didn't have time to think. Only afterwards, as he lay in Yoko's arms on the floor of the pavilion, did it dawn on him what he had done to his wife.

The following day, Yoko returned to the capital. When Kasumi returned from Puhua, Godo told himself he would forget what happened between him and Yoko, but when he saw his wife, he knew it was too late. He could no longer see her the same way. After the imperial family returned to the Palace at the end of the summer, he and Yoko saw each other at the dojo every afternoon, but to deflect suspicion, they rarely spoke. Instead they began to meet at the library at night. At first these trysts were enough, but soon they began to resent that they had to hide their love. Godo began to feel ashamed that he had married so carelessly. He had thought that his marriage with Kasumi would be an alliance to save the Empire. That was meaningless compared to the fact that he could have married the woman he loved, the very woman who would have been his bride, if he had chosen to wait for her to come back from the West.

She wasn't like his wife; she was like the sun to the mist. She didn't use her intelligence to argue against him, as Kasumi did when they argued. Yoko was deeply in tune with both her emotions and with his; Kasumi hid her emotions so often that sometimes he wasn't sure if she had any. Yoko understood his need for touch, whether it was a light kiss or simply a touch of the hand; Kasumi didn't seem to want to touch him, or him to touch her, at all.

When Godo arrived at the library the next morning, Kasumi was already there. Usually she arrived a few minutes after Godo. She didn't look up when he arrived, but when he sat at the desk across from her he saw the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Without looking up, Kasumi answered, "You have no right to ask that."

"I'm your husband," Godo said irritably. "I'm allowed to ask about your health."

"Our marriage is an alliance. Nothing more."

After the reading session, they had breakfast together while they reviewed the agenda for the court session; after the court session, they had lunch together to discuss the court's decisions. After the ladies-in-waiting cleared the dishes, Godo and Kasumi parted ways in silence.

That afternoon at the dojo, Yoko was anxious to know what happened between Godo and Kasumi last night. He only told her to meet him in his room that night. When she came, he decided to tell her only what mattered most for them: "She gave me permission to take you as my concubine. I know it wasn't what we wanted," he said quickly. "But this is the only way we can be together now."

Yoko looked resigned and relieved. "Then I can live with it. What happens now?"

"I have to tell the Empress Dowager that I want to take you as my concubine."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, but I have a favor to ask. Let me honor my father-in-law with the year-long mourning period before you become my concubine."

"A year? That long?"

"I'm sorry."

She sighed. "I can't ask you not to honor your father-in-law. But if you always play by the rules, you will never get what you want."

The next day, before they parted ways for the afternoon, Kasumi informed Godo that she had set the date of her father's funeral on their wedding anniversary, canceling the annual banquet. Godo didn't protest, but he couldn't help but wonder what every anniversary would look like from now on, whether she would ever visit Farruo with him again, whether she would always speak to him with that cold tone… The questions went on and on, but he knew that behind all of them there was only one question, one he couldn't bring himself to ask because he already knew the answer.

After the funeral, Godo and Kasumi stood in front of her parents' grave. Even after Kasumi's brother and his family left, even when the sun began to sink behind the mountains, she remained where she was. Finally, Godo turned to her to tell her he was going back to the Palace. Without looking at him, she answered, "You can go without me." He turned away and left her alone.

_Will you ever forgive me?_

It was the question that answered all the others, and he knew the answer: _Never._

* * *

_Did you think he would stay out in the cold with you?_

_No. Our relationship isn't like that anymore. Maybe it never was._

_Stop thinking about that. You have to say goodbye to your father._

_It's dark already. I've been trying to think of something to say to my father, but I can only think of one thing…_

"Father…" Her voice emerged in a croak. She cleared her throat.

_My father is dead, and all I can think about is my marriage._

"I need to tell you goodbye, but there's so much on my mind."

_My husband fell in love with another woman._

"It's been nearly two months since I found out, but I can't stop thinking about it."

_My husband had an affair within two years of our wedding._

"Before you passed, you asked if I was happy. I was. Back then, I thought I knew my husband."

_He was my closest friend and my family._

"I was wrong. He isn't the man I thought he was." Her voice cracked. "And I'm so unhappy."

_I need to say goodbye, but I can't think about anything else. _Kasumi sank to her knees. _Father, I'm so sorry._

When she felt the tears escaping, she quickly wiped them away. _I can't go back to the Palace like this, _she thought, but the tears kept coming. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

After that, she could no longer face Godo. She slept through the morning reading sessions and breakfast, declined to attend the court sessions, and ate lunch alone. After several days of this, Riko came to visit her. "I understand what you're going through," Riko insisted. "My husband is taking a concubine soon. I know how humiliating this is for you. But please think of my brother. His advisors are mocking him behind his back because the Empress he said would help him save the Empire is making him rule alone."

"If your husband isn't already having an affair, you don't know what I'm going through," Kasumi snapped. "And why should I feel sorry for him? He mocked me first by having an affair."

"It was bound to happen sometime."

She stared at Riko. "How could you say that?"

"You and I live in a world in which men feel entitled to as many women as they want. And of all the men in the Empire, you married the one who, historically, could have any woman—_every_ woman he laid eyes on. For the Emperor, one woman is never enough. I hate it too, but that's just the way things are."

"Why do we have to accept it?" Kasumi demanded. "Why can't we ask men to be better than that?"

"Because they can't."

"What about the Sixteenth Shimotsuki Emperor? One woman was enough for him!"

"Only because his father's concubines murdered each other," Riko said flatly. "No other Emperor has ever settled for one woman. Not even the ones who were in love. So if you thought my brother loved you—"

"I never thought that."

"Then if _you_ ever had feelings for him," Riko continued, without missing a beat, "don't fool yourself. One woman is never enough. My brother will take Lady Mutsuki, and every other woman who catches his eye, as his concubine. The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

Kasumi clenched her fists. "You've said enough. Leave me alone."

After Riko left, Kasumi laid her head on the table. _I'm trapped. I can take back what I said and beg my husband not to take concubines, or I can give up and resign myself to being the head of his harem. Riko is right: it won't stop with Lady Mutsuki. There will be another woman, and another, and another. Because my husband is the Emperor._

_But I am Faruno Kasumi. Daughter of the former Master of Magic. First female scholar-official since the reign of the Eighth Emperor. Empress of Wutai. I won't go back on my word, and I won't be anything other than the Emperor's only wife._


	11. A Commoner's Husband

On the evening Godo returned from a week-long undercover inspection in the town of Foguang, Eunuch Jang relayed the Empress Dowager's request that Godo visit her at her residence. When he sat down across the table from her, she said, "The Empress has asked me for a divorce."

The breath seemed to vanish from Godo's chest. "What?"

"She told me that her decision has nothing to do with you, and that she couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing than being the wife of a man who loves another woman."

"What did you tell her?"

"I accepted." Perhaps mistaking the reason for Godo's expression, the Empress Dowager continued, "My acceptance has nothing to do with my personal dislike. Faruno Kasumi was a perfectly adequate Empress. But when you are married to Lady Mutsuki, all will be as it should." She smiled. "If all it took was an affair to end your marriage, I'm surprised you didn't do it sooner."

Godo felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was free: free to marry the woman he loved, free to father her children. But when he tried to speak, to thank the Empress Dowager for accepting his wife's request for a divorce, the words wouldn't come.

The Empress Dowager pushed a silk pouch across the table. "She asked me to return this to you. She said something very interesting. She said she agreed to marry you because she thought you were a man who lived for something other than himself. I told her you are," she added when Godo opened his mouth to respond. "I also told her that when a man falls in love, he puts aside everything for love."

There was a note of resignation in her voice, and Godo remembered his father's doomed attempt to raise the status of his beloved consort's family. _This is different,_ he wanted to say. _This isn't politics. It's love._ But instead he bowed, thanked the Empress Dowager, and returned to his own quarters. There he opened the pouch. Inside was the Empress's hairpin. Looking at the red jade phoenix with its Puhuanese pearls, Godo found himself remembering the times he and Kasumi drank sake together, their travels around the Empire, the Seventh Night Festival at Nanchan. _It wasn't love, but we were happy._

He remembered her eyes when she confronted him and Yoko. Before her gaze turned to cold fury, the expression in her eyes was not anger, but pain. Her eyes told him that what he had done to her wasn't just wrong. It was cruel. He had shattered her trust in him and tarnished every memory she shared with him—forever.

The hairpin blurred as Godo's eyes began to burn with tears. _I'm sorry it ended this way. If I knew I would cause you this much pain, I wouldn't have married you. I shouldn't have married you._

The next morning, he sat down to the morning reading session alone while Eunuch Jang stood by. Halfway through the reading session, he still hadn't read a word. He could think only of his failed marriage.

"Eunuch Jang."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"If I divorce my wife to marry the woman I love, what kind of Emperor does that make me?"

"One who follows his heart, Your Majesty."

"Is that good?" When the eunuch didn't answer, Godo continued, "The Emperors who did whatever they wanted were tyrants. If I divorced the Empress and married the woman I love, could I still choose what is right over what I want? Or would I have passed the point of no return?"

Eunuch Jang bowed his head. "It is not my place to say, Your Majesty."

That afternoon, before going to the dojo, Godo went to the nursery to visit Farruo. The baby greeted him with a smile that showed his tiny new teeth. Godo asked the wet nurse when the Empress last visited the nursery. "Not since the ninth month," she answered.

Godo smiled for Farruo, but the baby, perhaps realizing that his mother wasn't there, began to fuss. Godo picked Farruo up, held him in his arms, and imagined telling him, "My son, your mother is leaving and I am going to marry another woman. Can you live with a new mother? Can you accept siblings who share the same father, but are born from a different mother?"

He knew that Farruo would, because that was the way Godo grew up: with a mother who wasn't the woman who gave birth to him, and with siblings from the same father but different mothers. He learned to live with it because that was just the way it was in the imperial family. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn't silence the thought: _That doesn't make it right._

The next day he asked Yoko to meet him at the usual place that evening. When he arrived at the pavilion, she greeted him with a kiss. Her smile faltered when she saw his face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"My wife asked the Empress Dowager for a divorce, and she agreed."

"You look unhappy." She took Godo's hand. "Of course it will hurt. You didn't hate each other; you were close. But we should only marry the people we really love. It's the only way for us to be happy."

Godo looked down at their clasped hands. "Could I be happy knowing that in order to be with the woman I love, I threw away my wife?"

"You shouldn't say it like that," Yoko protested. "In a loveless marriage, divorce is better for both of you. It happens all the time in the West. It's just not common here."

"In the West, love must be the most important thing in life." Godo smiled sadly. "To be free to marry the person you love… that is the one luxury I can't have."

Yoko searched his face, suddenly worried. "What are you trying to say?"

Godo took a deep breath. "I am the Emperor of Wutai, whose people look to him as an example. The Emperor I want to be would not divorce his wife to marry another."

"So where does that leave us?"

She read the answer in his eyes. "I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "Your wife agrees to a divorce, and now you decide we can't be together?"

If Godo spoke now, he would only end up telling Yoko how much it hurt to push her away like this, how much he wished he weren't the Emperor so they could be together, how much he wanted to marry her. As it was, his silence fed her anger. "I should have known," she said bitterly. "You always told me you wanted to do things right. What made you think there is a right way to have an affair? I told you that if you always play by the rules—"

"I will never get what I want," Godo finished. "If that's how a good Emperor lives, then that's the way I must live."

"I gave you everything, and this is your answer? Abandoning me? Is _that_ the kind of Emperor you want to be?" When he didn't respond, Yoko shouted, "Answer me!"

Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. With nothing left to say, Godo closed his eyes and listened to her storm out of the room.

Going to the library every morning reminded him of her, as did going to the dojo every afternoon. Two weeks later he still couldn't go a day without missing her. But he knew that whether or not he was ready, he had to talk to Kasumi. On the night Godo finally went to her quarters to speak with her, Lady Hsu, standing outside the doors of Kasumi's room, apologetically explained that the Empress had ordered her not to let the Emperor in. He decided to come back the following night, and if she still wouldn't see him, the following night, and so on, until she was ready to talk. But after several days, Lady Hsu confessed that the Empress had left the Palace a few days ago.

Godo burst into Kasumi's room. All the furniture—the vases, the paintings, the cabinets—were still there. On the desk in the center of the room were a vase of sweet pea flowers and a dark blue robe. When Godo unfolded it, he saw that it was the ao dai Kasumi had worn when she snuck into Guangzong to explore the town alone.

Godo whirled around to confront Lady Hsu, who sank to her knees. "You may take my life if you wish, Your Majesty," she said. "But I could not bear to watch her be unhappy any longer."

"I will not take your life. You have served the imperial family for many years," said Godo. "Tell me where the Empress went."

"I do not know, Your Majesty. She would not tell me."

Godo turned to Eunuch Jang. "Find out who was guarding the Empress's quarters on the day she left."

"They did not notice her, Your Majesty. She left disguised as a lady-in-waiting," Lady Hsu informed him.

"She could be on a ship to the West by now," Eunuch Jang remarked. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, she is lost to us. It would be easier to find another Empress."

Godo found himself gazing at the ao dai he was holding. There, along the sleeve, was the barely visible line like a scar that never fully healed. A quick search of the cabinets and trunks showed him that Kasumi had left all of her fine clothing behind, taking only her ao dai with her—all of them except for this one, the one that would remind her of him.

_I should do the same, but…_

"I can't."

"Pardon, Your Majesty?"

"I have to find her. I have to at least try." He paused, thinking. "She has a brother in Bishan and relatives in Puhua. If she's not with either of them, I don't know where to find her." He turned to Eunuch Jang. "Tell my advisors that court sessions will continue without me for at least a week. If they ask, I have urgent business to take care of outside the capital. Do not let anyone know that the Empress is missing."

* * *

From the monastery tucked into the mountains of Da-chao Statue, Kasumi could see the roofs of the capital. On the north side, close to the foot of the mountains, she could just make out An-xi Square, surrounded by the Pavilion, the Pagoda, and the Palace.

She arrived at the monastery two weeks ago. In a Puhuanese accent, she told the nuns that her husband had abandoned her and she needed a place to stay. They took her in without asking for any further explanation.

They received no news from the capital, but she knew that her son's first birthday was approaching. She hadn't seen him since the day she discovered the affair, nearly three months ago now. _Can you walk now?_ she thought numbly. _Can you say "Baba" and "Mama"? Has your father spent time with you? And the woman who will be your new mother… is she spending time with you for me?_

"Miss Xia?"

Kasumi snapped out of her thoughts to greet Venerable Tamaki, the elderly nun who became her mentor at the monastery. "There's someone here to see you. He says he's your brother. I told him to wait for you down by the bridge."

"My brother?" Kasumi repeated in surprise. _How did he know I was here?_ She hurried down the rocky path to the bridge over the frozen waterfall. Her heart ached with the worry she must have caused him, and her eyes burned at the thought of what she had to tell him. But when she reached the bridge, calling, "Oniisan!" and the man waiting there turned to face her, she was not looking at her brother. The man was unshaven and dressed in commoner's clothes, but there was no mistaking him. Kasumi stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking.

"I went to Puhua first, and then Bishan. I thought you would be with your relatives or your brother. Then I realized that you are too proud to ask for help. That you would go all the way to the West alone if you wanted."

She almost didn't recognize his voice. It was always full of confidence and strength: the voice of a natural leader. Now it was soft, almost broken. There were shadows under his eyes. Seeing him like this, she didn't trust herself to speak, but she forced herself. "Then how did you know to come here?"

"I remembered that when an Emperor dies, his childless widows spend the rest of their lives at this monastery. You shouldn't be here," he said quietly. "Your husband is alive, and our son is waiting for you."

An icy wind gusted past them, stiffening Kasumi's resolve. "I have no husband and no son," she said evenly. "The Empress Dowager must have finalized the divorce by now."

"I asked the Empress Dowager to cancel it. My relationship with Mutsuki Yoko is over. She returned to her family last month. I came here to bring you back to the Palace."

"Lady Mutsuki wasn't the problem. She only showed us what was wrong with our marriage from the start."

"What is that?"

"That we can't make each other happy. Our marriage was a mistake," Kasumi said, her voice shaking. "We thought it would be good for the Empire, but it made us both unhappy."

"Were we unhappy?"

The pain in his voice caught her off guard. He continued, "Are you happy here? You could have gone all the way to the West if you wanted, but you came here."

_He knows,_ Kasumi thought. _He knows that if I were only angry, I would have left the country. But I came here as an Empress grieving the loss of her husband._ "In time, I will be fine," she insisted. "By this time next year we will both be glad we did it."

Godo shook his head. "I will never forgive myself if I divorce the Empress who made me a better Emperor."

Any empathy Kasumi felt vanished in an instant. "_You_ humiliated _me_," she said, her voice cold with fury. "And you think you're the one who gets to forgive?"

Godo's expression hardened, and he strode toward her. Kasumi prepared to push him away, but he dropped to his knees, placed his hands on the ground, and lowered his head to the ground in the bow reserved only for the Emperor himself. "Your Majesty," she began uncomfortably.

Godo raised his head, but kept his eyes lowered. "There are no excuses for what I did. What I felt for Lady Mutsuki, I'd never felt before, and I didn't fight it. But I never wanted to hurt you, and divorce isn't the answer to our marriage." He took a deep breath. "Everyone thinks the Emperor can do anything he wants. It's not true. The Emperors who did whatever they wanted were tyrants. The Emperor has to live for everyone but himself. Not all of my ancestors lived that way, but I want to be better than them. You were the one who told me I could be. I came to ask you to accept my apology and my renewed promise… to be a commoner's husband, with you as my only wife."

Kasumi stared down at her husband, the Son of Heaven kneeling at her feet. She knew it should be enough, she should forgive him. But when she tried to imagine their future together, there was no possibility of happiness with him. She whirled around and stumbled back up to the monastery, her eyes filling with tears at the sound of her name until her husband's voice disappeared in the wind.

Venerable Tamaki was waiting for her at the gate. Kasumi glared at her through her tears. "My brother doesn't have violet eyes. How could you fall for that?"

"I didn't, Your Majesty," Venerable Tamaki answered calmly. When Kasumi froze, she continued, "I've heard about you. I take a special interest in the life of the imperial family."

She reached into the folds of her robe and retrieved a golden hair ornament similar to the one the Empress Dowager wore. "Grand Dowager Consort," Kasumi murmured. It meant that Venerable Tamaki was once a consort of Emperor Juusandou, Godo's grandfather. Kasumi sighed. "What else do you know about me?"

"Nothing else," Venerable Tamaki assured her. "But if you came here saying your husband has abandoned you, I can guess that things are not well." When Kasumi opened her mouth to respond, Venerable Tamaki shook her head. "You don't have to tell me. I can tell that whatever happened, His Majesty is deeply sorry."

"Being sorry doesn't make everything all right," Kasumi retorted bitterly.

"No, of course not. A broken marriage takes time to heal. And even when it does heal, it might not be exactly what it once was. But both of you will be stronger for it. I was just a lowly concubine, but I know that much."

"But…" Kasumi struggled to put her feelings into words and gave up. "No. I can't go back. I can't."

"Do you know the story of the first wife of the Nineteenth Shimotsuki Emperor?" When Kasumi shook her head, Venerable Tamaki continued, "The Prince Zhongchao rose to the throne after a coup deposed his uncle, the Eighteenth Emperor. The Prince's wife, Lady Im, was the daughter of the deposed Emperor's advisor, and the new Emperor had to marry a daughter of the Twelve. So the new Emperor's advisors forced the Prince and his wife to divorce. Lady Im was exiled to this monastery."

"The new Emperor remarried," Kasumi finished. "He had an Empress, consorts, and concubines, and he had children with them. He forgot Lady Im."

"He didn't forget her. The Nineteenth Emperor would often gaze at the mountain where Lady Im lived in exile. Not long into his reign, he lost the will to rule. He died relatively young, still longing for his first wife." Venerable Tamaki looked into Kasumi's eyes. "Everything and everyone stood between Lady Im and the Nineteenth Emperor. _They_ could not go back. _They_ could not choose. As far as I know, you can still choose whether you want to stay here or return to your husband."

_My husband._ Kasumi thought of Godo with his broken voice and his shadowed face. _If I let him go, he won't recover. He won't forgive himself, and I won't forgive myself. I can't do that to him. He may have been unfaithful, but I still can't._

After Kasumi left him, Godo remained where he was sitting, staring unseeingly at the wooden planks of the bridge. _It's over,_ he thought numbly, repeatedly. _I've lost her forever._ His eyes filled with tears of bitter regret.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he raised his head. When he wiped away the tears, he saw that his wife had returned. She knelt down in front of him and slowly, tentatively, wrapped her arms around him. "I don't know what's in the future for us," she said softly. "I don't know when the pain will go away, when it won't hurt just to look at you. But if I have you, and if you're the man I believe you can be…" She pulled away and met his gaze. "That's all I need," she finished.

Godo held her close in another, tighter embrace. Now the tears spilled freely, expressing what words could not. They were still tears of remorse—but also of relief. When the tears subsided, he spoke again. "Are you going to tell the nuns who you really are?"

For the first time in months, Kasumi laughed. "No. I'll just tell them that my husband came to take me home."


	12. Impasse

A year and a half after Kasumi left the monastery, Akisada and Yoko came to visit Godo at the summer palace. It was the first time Godo had seen the two since their wedding, because they lived at Hatsufaru Castle at the Mutsuki family's request. Yoko stayed behind while Akisada came to greet his brother in the pavilion. As Akisada drew closer, Godo realized that he looked younger. When he greeted Godo, it was with sincerity Godo couldn't remember ever seeing in his brother.

Akisada smiled. "You look suspicious. I don't blame you."

"Are you all right?" Godo asked. "You're not sick, are you?"

Akisada laughed. "Sick? No, I feel better than I have ever been before!"

As he said this, he glanced over his shoulder at Yoko. He turned back to Godo and continued, "I came to apologize for all the wrongs I have ever done you."

Godo couldn't believe the words he was hearing. "Is this because of—" He cut himself off in time to avoid Yoko's name. "Because of your wife?"

"No!" Akisada paused. "In a way, yes. We got married to spite you, but little by little, she found a place in my heart, and I in hers. Now she is pregnant with my child." He looked anxious. "I am sorry if this news hurts you—"

"Not at all," Godo said quickly. "You are my brother. I'm glad to see you happy."

"What about you and Her Majesty?"

"Everything is..." He paused to think, realized he'd paused too long, and finished, "Fine. Everything is fine."

"Does she like that?" Akisada gestured at his own clean-shaven chin.

Godo self-consciously touched his short beard. "She said it makes me look more like an Emperor."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I think so." He had never considered that it could be otherwise. "What do you think?"

"I agree with Her Majesty." Akisada smiled. "I'm sure our ancestors would be proud."

"Of the beard?"

He laughed. "Yes, that, but also of everything you've done for the Empire."

When Akisada left, Godo watched him reunite with Yoko. They seemed to exchange a few words, and he briefly touched her abdomen. Then, hand in hand and without a glance behind, they walked away. Godo watched them in disbelief. Either Akisada and Yoko had joined forces against him, or Akisada was truly, sincerely changed. And if he was… did that mean Yoko loved him?

_Do I still love her?_

Godo shook his head and called to Eunuch Jang, who was standing at the steps of the pavilion, "Where is the Empress?"

"At the Boat Pavilion, Your Majesty."

As Godo and his entourage made their way down to the Boat Pavilion, he remembered his slow reconciliation with his wife. A year and a half had passed since they hiked down from the monastery together. Upon their return to the Palace, in most ways life returned to normal. If anything, their confidence in their ability to lead the Empire out of decline was affirmed when the end-of-the-year reports from officials across the Empire showed that the numbers of emigrants had fallen, and all figures showed that the economy was improving. Godo had a few months to revel in the news. Then, one afternoon at the dojo, Akisada sauntered up to him to inform him that with the Empress Dowager's consent, he and Lady Mutsuki were getting married.

Godo's first concern was for his wife: he knew that she would expect him to be despondent and negligent over the news. So he overcompensated. Normally, they parted ways after lunch and didn't meet again until the next morning; now, in the afternoons, he invited her to the dojo so she could see what he was doing before she left to teach the young noblewomen. In the evenings they went to the nursery together to visit Farruo. But it didn't seem to be enough. She remained emotionally distant: her smiles wouldn't reach her eyes.

When Godo asked his sister Rina for advice, she suggested that he and Kasumi have another child. When he stared at Rina in disbelief, she said, "It's not just to fix your marriage. It's just that having children is what ordinary married couples do."

Godo was doubtful. "We're hardly ordinary."

"You want to be, don't you?" Rina pointed out. "Or at least as ordinary as an Emperor and Empress can be. I can talk to her to see how she feels about another child."

"Please. But be subtle."

"I will!"

The following evening, Rina told him that Kasumi was a little hesitant at first, but eventually agreed. "What did you say to her?" Godo asked.

"I asked her where she thinks you two are right now. She says it's like there's still a rift between you and her. It's getting shallower, but not narrower."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not really sure. So I asked her if she thought having another child would change things between you for the better. She said maybe, and that it's what an ordinary husband and wife would do."

"You weren't subtle at all!"

"I got you an answer, didn't I?"

Godo decided to wait a few days before broaching the subject with Kasumi, but the following night, she visited his room and asked if he wanted to have another child, hesitantly explaining that she hoped it would improve their relationship. Godo admitted that he had hoped the same. Kasumi told him she would go to the court astrologers for a list of auspicious dates for conceiving children. Just like that, it was done. The decision was made. And yet when Kasumi left and Godo sat thinking about what had just happened, he couldn't help feeling that it shouldn't have happened just like that, as if they had signed a contract. But he didn't know how else would it have happened either.

On the first auspicious date, Kasumi came to his room, and they extinguished the lamps and undressed. Godo's lips just brushed hers when Kasumi turned her face away. For a while, they sat in uncomfortable silence, but eventually she lay down, and they went through the motions. As before, the auspicious dates became routine. It helped that Kasumi left afterwards, allowing them to start the next day as if nothing had happened the previous night.

As the months passed, Godo began to ask himself if what he wanted was really for them to be an ordinary husband and wife. He gradually realized that what he wanted most was for Kasumi to be happy. When he asked himself whether another child would make her happy, he didn't know the answer. And when he asked himself if his love would make her happy, he didn't know the answer either.

Now, from a distance, Godo watched Farruo and his amah arrive at the Boat Pavilion to greet Kasumi. The little boy ran across the Pavilion and plunged into his mother's arms. Kasumi turned to the lake to point at the temples and pavilions across the water, but Farruo was much more interested in his mother's hairpin. When Kasumi realized what was happening, it was too late: her carefully coiled hair tumbled down to her waist. The amah took Farruo and pried the hairpin out of his small hands to give to Lady Usui, Kasumi's new chief attendant since Lady Hsu's retirement. While Lady Usui began to pin Kasumi's hair back up, Farruo, squirming in his amah's arms, spotted his father. "Hi, Baba!" he shouted. The amah set him down and let him run to Godo at the other end of the long pavilion. While Lady Usui finished pinning her hair back into place, Kasumi watched Godo scoop Farruo up into his arms. She couldn't hear what he said, but whatever it was, it made the little boy giggle. Only Godo could make him laugh like that. Kasumi tried, but she could only get him to smile.

Godo put Farruo down. As the little boy and his amah began the climb back up to the palace, Godo approached Kasumi. Somehow she still wasn't used to the moustache and beard. One day he asked her what she thought. She told him he looked more like an Emperor. It was the truth, but he also just looked older.

He looked downcast when he reached her. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," he answered, trying to smile. "Nothing at all."

_How did they feel when they found out they were going to have a baby?_

Looking down at Kasumi's swelling stomach, he tried to remember how he felt when Kasumi told him she was pregnant again, just as they wished. Was it anything compared to Yoko and Akisada's joy, the joy of two people in love, learning that they were going to have a child? Remembering what he had seen Akisada do when he reunited with Yoko, he tentatively reached out to Kasumi's abdomen. Kasumi pushed his hand away. "Your Majesty," she said quietly, glancing at the eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting in the pavilion with them, "we're not alone."

As she, Godo, and their entourage made their way up the hill to the summer palace, Kasumi relived the moment in her mind: Godo reaching towards her, her pushing him away. In that one moment they had acted out the current state of their marriage. Godo was making the extra effort to show her he wanted to be a good husband. She knew why, but it made her uncomfortable. He didn't seem to realize that just because they had agreed not to divorce didn't mean their relationship could return to the way it used to be.

She didn't even know what it _could_ be. Shortly after she and Godo returned from the monastery in the mountains, she met with the Empress Dowager to assure her that she and the Emperor had reconciled, and to apologize for the trouble she had created for the Empress Dowager. "You should apologize to the Emperor," the Empress Dowager said. "He went to great pains to bring you back to the Palace. I would have had him remarry, to another, more suitable Empress. No other man would have done what he did for you."

Although Kasumi chafed at the implication that she alone was at fault for the near-divorce, and the Empress Dowager seemed to ignore the fact that Kasumi came close to choosing exile over returning with Godo, Kasumi assured the Empress Dowager that the Emperor's goodness would not be lost on her. She didn't know exactly what that meant then, and she didn't know what it meant now. When she agreed to have another child with him, it wasn't until later that she asked herself how lovemaking without passion could bring them closer, how a child born of their uneasy union could heal the emotional gulf between them. Then again, if it did heal, wouldn't they go back to the way they used to be? And if they did, wouldn't they make the same mistakes again?

With a swift motion, Godo caught Kasumi before she realized she'd lost her footing on the uphill path. Uncomfortable with his nearness, she avoided his gaze, thanked him, and continued on.

On the evening before the Seventh Night Festival, just as he did the previous year, he suggested going to Nanchan to watch the festival. He even insisted that he didn't mind the crowds. Just as she did the previous year, Kasumi declined. It was partly because the Seventh Night Festival reminded her of how happy she had been with him on that evening in Nanchan, partly because she couldn't help wondering if he had spent the following Seventh Night with Yoko and whether they had imagined themselves the star-crossed lovers, kept apart by a river of mist.

When the humid summer heat retreated, the imperial household returned to the capital. Six weeks later, Kasumi stopped attending court and teaching the noblewomen's daughters in order to prepare for the baby's birth. She left her quarters only for the Emperor's birthday celebrations. Godo's siblings and their families all attended. Yoko, now visibly pregnant, stayed by Akisada's side and kept her distance from Godo. Riko greeted her brother but ignored Kasumi, as was her habit ever since her husband took concubines. Unlike Riko, Rina greeted both Kasumi and Godo. Although her husband now had concubines too, she didn't think it had any meaning for her and Kasumi's friendship.

Later that month, Kasumi went into labor and gave birth to a baby boy. Doctor Yao warned Kasumi that the baby was frail and might not survive the month. She did notice that he was smaller than his brother was when he was born. So she avoided spending time with the new baby, leaving his care to the physician and the wet nurse. At the banquet for the baby's one-month birthday, the Empress Dowager named the baby Kuniyoshi, Prince of the Nation's Fortune. "This Prince is born to us at a moment when the Empire's fortune has begun to change for the better," the Empress Dowager explained. "His birth will be a sign for all Wutai's people."

The following month was the banquet for the Emperor and Empress's wedding anniversary, and the month after that was the Empress's birthday. Her birthday was the only time of the year that Kasumi saw her brother and his family. Her niece and nephews were disappointed that they couldn't meet their new cousin because of his frail health, but they were happy to play with Farruo. Meanwhile, Kasumi's brother and his wife interrogated her to make sure her husband was treating her well. It was their habit ever since the Emperor showed up on their doorstep in search of his missing wife. As she did the previous year, she assured them that Godo was an attentive husband and an affectionate father. But this year, Kasumi's brother startled her with an extra question: "Are you happy?"

It was the same question their father asked her shortly before his passing. _Yes,_ she had answered. She meant it. She was thinking of her husband's kindness and realizing that he wasn't just a good Emperor, but also a good man. Only a few days later she would discover that he had a mistress. Even after that, Kasumi stayed married to him and bore him another child.

"Yes," she answered, "of course."

The Princes' physician frequently reported to Kasumi and Godo on Kuniyoshi's fragile health. When they visited the nursery together, the baby would fuss until Kasumi picked him up and cradled him in her arms. The baby's eyes—violet like his father's, large like his mother's—stared up at her. _He wants me to love him,_ she thought. _He needs a mother who can show her love for him. I can't be that mother. I don't know how._

She did the best she could: she sang her favorite lullaby, the Song of the Seasons, to him. He almost always fell asleep by the time she finished the autumn verse. The first time he heard it, Godo interrupted to ask why she was singing the Song of the Seasons, a patriotic anthem, as a lullaby. She explained that the song was a lullaby in Puhua and began again. Although it bothered Godo at first, soon he was convinced that the poetry of the song's lyrics was better suited to a lullaby than to a march.

In the second month of the new year, Godo received the news of the birth of Akisada and Yoko's child, a daughter. A month later the young family traveled to the capital to visit the Palace. There the five Kisaragi siblings had a small reunion: Akiyoshi and his wife; Akisada, his son by his first wife, Yoko, and their new baby girl; Riko and her husband; Rina, her husband, and their four-year-old daughter; and Godo, Kasumi, and Farruo. Kuniyoshi stayed in the nursery because of his frail health. Watching Akisada and Yoko's delight as they held their little daughter, Godo tried to remember what he felt when he held Farruo for the first time. It wasn't delight. Listening to Kasumi give birth had almost convinced him that he had done something horrible to her. The delight came later, when Kasumi had recovered and they visited the nursery together, when the baby inadvertently smiled and filled his heart with warmth, when an unexpected giggle made him and Kasumi glance at each other in silent wonder. How much more would Akisada and Yoko feel, watching the child born of their love?

In late spring, Kasumi traveled to the village of Qixian for the undercover inspection. Godo had offered to go in her place. She reminded him that he had gone the previous year, and that she didn't mind time away from the Palace. It was a comment that landed wrong, and it took a few days for Godo to offer to go with her. She told him she would feel better if one of them stayed to keep the court sessions running in the other's absence. It wasn't that she needed time away from him… but she did.

Qixian was the southernmost village in Wutai. Although it took two weeks to travel there, it was small enough that Kasumi saw everything she needed to see and wrote it all down in two days. When she finished the report on the second night, she put her writing utensils away and pushed open the sliding doors to the veranda. In the darkness of night, the garden was little more than a mass of shadows. Through it she heard raised voices. She saw them on the veranda across: a nobleman, by the silhouette of his wide-brimmed hat, and his wife, by her pinned hair. What they were arguing about, she couldn't hear. She only heard their voices reach a fevered pitch.

_Whatever my marriage is like, at least it isn't like that._ With a glance of pity, she turned around to go back inside. But the argument had ended, and when she turned around again to close the doors she saw the husband and wife embracing. In the morning she saw them again as she and her retinue were leaving the inn. It was impossible to miss them as they chatted and laughed their way into the streets of Qixian, leaving Kasumi wondering if she was the one to be pitied.

When she arrived at the Palace, she was still settling into her room when Eunuch Jang arrived, looking perturbed. "What is it?" Kasumi asked.

"His Majesty received a letter from the Prince Qiu-ding this morning," Eunuch Jang said, using Akisada's official title. "He has been in low spirits all day. I wondered if Your Majesty might talk to him."

Kasumi sighed. She was exhausted. "What did the letter say?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty, but the Prince sent one to you too."

Kasumi opened the letter on her desk.

_To my sister-in-law—_

_By the time you read this, my family and I will be on a boat leaving Wutai. I am sorry we didn't say goodbye, but I hope our reasons will be clear. We are leaving because of my wife's family. We discovered that they agreed to our marriage because their line is in danger: their son cannot have children. Their intent became clear soon after the birth of our child, whom they wanted to be a son. My wife and I decided that it would be best if we left Wutai. We are leaving behind the wealth, comforts, and duties of our high social standing to protect our family and our love._

_We do not expect to ever return to Wutai, but we will watch over you from afar. May the blessings of Leviathan be with you, my brother, and your children._

_Akisada_

"Your Majesty!"

Inside the pavilion on the pond, Godo heard his wife's voice from across the water. "Your Majesty!" she was calling. "Are you here?"

"I'm here!" he called back, hurrying onto the bridge.

In the dark of the moonless sky, they almost ran into each other. "When did you arrive?" Godo asked.

"Just now. I read Akisada's letter."

He shook his head. "I can't believe it," he mutered.

"When we first met the Mutsuki family, I was impressed that they were willing to send their children to be educated in the West, and that they were against taking concubines," Kasumi mused. "But even they couldn't overcome their fear of their line dying out."

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

She bristled. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Tell me why my brother left behind his status, his family, his country, everything he has ever known!"

"You read the letter, didn't you? He says it's love."

"Is love so precious that we should abandon our families, our duties, and the Empire?" Godo demanded. "Is love that important?"

Kasumi responded in a small voice, "You're the one who knows."

At the height of their affair, Yoko did talk about running away. "So that we can be free to love each other," she had said. Godo wouldn't hear of it. "You're the logical one," he said to Kasumi. "What do you think? Is it love or obsession?"

"I'm starting to think the two are the same."

In the brief silence that followed she felt his astonishment. "Is that really what you think?" he asked.

"What if it is?"

"Then… you could never be happy with me?"

The change of subject startled Kasumi. "What are you talking about?"

"I want you to be happy," Godo said. "I've been thinking…" He faltered, but forced himself to say the words. "If I loved…"

"That wouldn't make me happy," Kasumi said quickly. "I married you because you care about something more than yourself. If you loved…" She couldn't bring herself to finish. "If you asked me to run away with you, I would stay behind to lead the Empire alone. Being allies and friends is enough for me."

"But we aren't just friends. We are a husband and wife with two children."

She paused, realizing what lay behind his words. "Are you sure that what you want is to love?" she asked. "Or to be loved?"

Godo was speechless. "If it's to be loved, I can't give you that," Kasumi said softly, drawing close to him. She didn't understand what he felt. She only knew that he couldn't find the words to tell her. But it didn't matter: whether he was jealous of his brother, whether he missed Yoko, whatever it was, she couldn't talk him through it. She didn't know how. So instead she offered him the only comfort she knew she could give him. In the dark, her hands found his face. "This is all I can do for you," she whispered, and kissed him.

The touch of her lips awakened something inside him, some raw instinct that he had repressed. _To be loved. Yes, that was what I wanted all along. I thought I wanted her to be happy, but I was lying to myself—and to her. Then let me be selfish one last time._

He pulled Kasumi closer. She became sharply aware of the sound of crickets chirping, the faint fragrance of incense on his clothes, the warmth of his breath mingled with hers, the firmness of his chest against hers and his hands on her waist… and, on her cheek, a tear that wasn't hers.

Startled, Kasumi pulled away. "Your Majesty?" she asked, breathless.

Mortified, Godo reached up to his face. "I…"

"Your Majesty!"

The distant voice across the water startled them. "Your Majesty!" Lady Usui called again. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," Kasumi called. She glanced up at Godo, but couldn't see his expression in the darkness. "Good night," she mumbled, and hurried away to meet Lady Usui.


	13. Healing

When they saw each other the next morning, they pretended nothing had happened. Rather, Kasumi pretended nothing had happened, but Godo was different after that night. For the first few days he was despondent. She heard it in his every word, saw it in his every motion. Another few days later it was less obvious, but it would appear again whenever he looked at her. Always when he looked at her. She told herself he likely regretted his decision stay married to her instead of marrying Yoko. But that was his decision, and he had to take responsibility for it. She didn't expect him to pretend that he was blissfully happy with her. His half-hearted attempt at that had already failed miserably. She did want him to be content. Somewhere between bliss and apathy. When she put it that way it sounded ridiculous. No one wanted to be somewhere between bliss and apathy. They both wanted to be happy, and they couldn't be happy with each other, because in choosing a marriage of convenience they had chosen a lifetime of being somewhere between bliss and apathy.

She was reading in her room one evening in attempt to keep those thoughts away when Lady Usui announced Eunuch Jang's arrival. The doors slid open and Eunuch Jang bowed. "Urgent news, Your Majesty. His Majesty has been severely injured."

"What happened?"

"He lost to the Master of Weapons. Did he not tell you he was climbing the Pagoda, Your Majesty?"

"No. He didn't say anything at all."

"His physician gave him an Elixir. He is out of danger," Eunuch Jang assured her.

She stood up. "Where is he now?"

When Kasumi arrived at the Emperor's room, the physician turned to her and bowed. Godo lay unconscious on the bedding, still wearing his torn, crimson-stained martial arts uniform. "He won't wake up until tomorrow, but his wounds should be healed by then," the physician informed Kasumi. "I will send for you when he awakens, Your Majesty."

"There's no need. I will stay here tonight. But please stay in one of the nearby rooms in case he needs you."

Kasumi ordered two ladies-in-waiting to help her tie her sleeves back. Other attendants brought towels and a basin of warm water. With the physician's help, Kasumi gently removed Godo's bloodstained uniform. She dipped a towel into the water and began to wash the blood and sweat from his body. Suddenly realizing that Lady Usui, Eunuch Jang, Godo's physician, and the ladies-in-waiting were all watching her, she froze. _What am I doing?_ _Shouldn't I let the attendants do this?_

"He once tended to me when I broke my arm," she explained to no one in particular. "I'm still indebted to him for that."

She resumed the task, doing her best to ignore everyone around her. When she finished, a eunuch helped her dress Godo in the white yukata he wore to sleep. A lady-in-waiting rolled out an extra set of bedding. Kasumi ordered Eunuch Jang to send word to the scholar-officials that the court session tomorrow morning was canceled. Eunuch Jang bowed and left, followed by Godo's physician and the rest of the staff.

Kasumi sat down by Godo's side. Instinctively, she reached out to touch his face, but stopped when she realized her hand was shaking. Why? Why did it hurt to see him like this?_ Because he's my husband,_ she answered herself._ I'd have to hate him to not ache to see him like this._ _But I don't hate him. And I don't love him. He's just my husband._

When Godo opened his eyes, it was already light. Gingerly, he sat up. His eyes fell on his wife, asleep on another roll of bedding beside his. _Was she so worried about me that she stayed the night?_ An unexpected feeling came over him. Before he could give that feeling a name, she began to stir, and whatever that feeling was, it gave way to embarrassment. He quickly looked away and lay back down, but it was too late. "How long have you been awake?" Kasumi mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"I just woke up."

She sat up. "Let me see your wounds."

Godo sat up and opened his yukata. Thanks to the Elixir, the wounds had faded into pale scars that would soon disappear. He sighed. "I can explain."

"I heard it from Eunuch Jang." Kasumi looked him in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"Is that what you think I want to hear?"

Godo was startled. "You should have told me," Kasumi continued. "I am your wife. My life and yours are the same. When you are hurt, I am hurt too." Her dark eyes were fierce. "I am your Empress, who wants you to become a great Emperor. If becoming the Master of Battle will make you the Emperor you want to be, I have nothing against that. Don't hide things from me because you think I won't understand why you're doing them. When you return to the Pagoda, I'll go with you."

Godo could only gaze at his wife in humbled silence. On that night in the garden he had told himself that he would stop pretending to be unselfish. For the last month he had convinced himself that mutual apathy was the only way they could possibly live with each other. But what she had done for him now, what she had said, wasn't apathy. Now he remembered that from the beginning, their marriage wasn't about their emotions; it was about being allies. Allies supported each other through triumph and hardship, the way she was doing for him now—and the way he had to do for her.

A few days later, Godo returned to the fourth level of the Pagoda to fight Master Shengol again. The elderly man looked sternly at Kasumi when she entered the room. "No outside assistance is permitted, Your Majesty," he warned Kasumi.

Kasumi spread her arms to show she was unarmed. "I only came to watch, Master Shengol."

Master Shengol unsheathed his long, thin sword. Godo drew two swords from the sheaths on his back. Kasumi's eyes widened: they were the swords she had given him from Puhua. "Are you going to use those again, Your Majesty?" Master Shengol asked. "You lost with those last time. You are much more skilled with a katana."

Godo responded, "I will become the Master of Battle with these swords."

He attacked first, commencing the battle. Impressed as Kasumi was by old Master Shengol's dexterity, her husband's grace impressed her still more. His swordplay was like dancing: every step seemed to be memorized from a sequence. She was so enraptured that it took her a moment to realize that the two combatants had stopped: Master Shengol was pinned to the floor, unarmed. Godo was holding one of his swords to the Master's throat. "I yield," Master Shengol said. "Congratulations, Your Majesty. If you wish, you may become the Master of Weapons. Should you wish to advance further, you will face the Master of Battle."

Godo sheathed his two swords. "I will fight the Master," he responded.

He and Kasumi followed the other four Masters upstairs and up to the fifth level of the Pagoda. Master Benshan, an elderly man like Master Shengol, welcomed Godo as the Emperor and stood to commence the battle.

Kasumi quickly saw why this battle was the most difficult of the five. In the other four battles, the Masters used a single combat style. In the first moments of the battle, Master Benshan switched swiftly from hand-to-hand combat to armed combat to feng shui dao. The self-assured grace that mesmerized Kasumi in the battle with the Master of Weapons was gone: Godo struggled to keep up. But as the battle went on, instead of slowing down, he seemed to speed up, ignoring his injuries. His dance-like agility returned. With a little more time, Kasumi was certain he would win the battle—until Godo moved a split second too late to dodge Master Benshan's katana.

Horrified, Kasumi stared at the scarlet stain flowering on Godo's _keikogi_. "Would you like to yield, Your Majesty?" Master Benshan asked.

Kasumi began, "Your Majesty—"

Suddenly the Master stumbled and fell back, clutching his abdomen. Godo tore the katana out of his own chest, tossed it away, and pointed one of his two dao at the Master's throat. The two combatants stared at each other in silence. Finally, Master Benshan laughed. "In a matter of minutes, you will die of blood loss. The choice is mine: to wait, or to yield my title to you now."

Godo raised his dao, but Master Benshan raised his hand. "I yield, Your Majesty. You have fought well."

The moment Master Benshan finished speaking, Godo fell to his knees. Kasumi raced to his side to support him while his physician poured the Elixir on his wounds. Once the wounds closed, Kasumi helped Godo stand. Master Benshan came forward with a small, blood-red sphere in his hand.

"This is the Leviathan Materia," said Master Benshan. "The trophy passed down to each Master of Battle. After more than a hundred years, it returns to a Kisaragi Emperor."

Godo accepted the Materia. "Tomorrow there will be a ceremony at the dojo to declare you the new Master of Battle," Master Benshan said. He bowed low, as a subject to his liege.

Godo, Kasumi, and their retinue outside the Pagoda returned to the Palace and to his quarters. While he bathed, she waited in his room. When he returned, the ladies-in-waiting brought them dinner and, at Godo's request, sake. Kasumi looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure? You must be tired."

"Not at all," he lied.

After the attendant poured the sake and left them alone, Kasumi raised her cup with a smile. "I drink to the new Master of Battle!"

"I was a little disappointed," Godo admitted. "Master Benshan could have continued to fight, but he forfeited instead."

"You could have defeated him instead of holding back at the end," Kasumi pointed out. "But you gave him a choice, and he chose to lose."

"I would have fought to the death," Godo retorted.

"You almost did. I thought it was over when he stabbed you."

"I thought so too. But then I heard your voice."

"My voice," she repeated, confused.

Suddenly shy, Godo stared into his cup. "I found the will to keep fighting. I wanted to win. I couldn't accept losing." He paused. "But maybe I wouldn't have fought to the death. Not for the title, at least. There are other things I would die to defend." Godo placed the Leviathan Materia on the table. "Like this."

Kasumi picked up the Materia. The blood-red color was appropriate to its history: it had been won and defended with bloodshed, and it in turn had spilled blood on the pages of the Empire's history. "It's hard to imagine," Kasumi mused. "That the power of a god can fit in my hand."

"Most of it is sealed away," Godo reminded her. "We can't know how powerful it really is unless we send someone around the world to unseal its full power."

"None of the previous Masters of Battle ever wanted to?"

"Maybe they were afraid of the prophecy that says Leviathan will destroy Wutai someday."

"But still—thousands of years of history, and not a single Master has ever wanted to see the god's full power?"

"That power nearly wiped out our people thousands of years ago," Godo pointed out. "Some things are better left unknown."

He held out his hand, and Kasumi returned the Materia to him. As their fingers brushed, he raised his eyes to her face: her large eyes, her delicate nose, her gently pointed chin. _What would her daughter look like?_ he suddenly wondered. "Do you want to have a daughter?" he asked, surprising himself with his frankness.

Kasumi was equally startled at the change of subject. "Now?"

"Not now. Whenever you're ready."

"We can't just decide that we want to have a daughter and then get one. We might have another boy."

"Then we'll keep trying until we have a girl."

"That's easy for you to say!" she retorted. To give herself time to think, she refilled their cups. She tried to imagine her daughter's face. _What would she look like? What kind of person would she be?_

Shyly, Kasumi looked up at her husband. "I… don't think I would mind having a daughter."

He laughed. "'I don't mind' is different from 'I want.'"

Kasumi, annoyed, was about to snap at him, but the look on his face made her reconsider. He wasn't teasing her; he was earnest. "I want to have a daughter," she insisted, trying to sound sincere. "Not now, but maybe soon."

The smile on Godo's face brought one to hers, and they drank to the daughter they hoped to have.

A few weeks later, the imperial family traveled to the summer palace to escape the heat of the capital. For Kasumi, the relief was always twofold: respite from the summer heat as well as from the often stifling schedule of Palace life. For his part, Godo was annoyed that a break from the imperial court also meant a break from his wife, since nearly all of their time together at the Palace was spent preparing for, leading, and reviewing the daily court sessions. Between his daily training, he tried to fit in time with Kasumi and their two sons. One sunny evening, while Godo, Kasumi, and Farruo sat down to dinner in one of the lakeside pavilions, Kuniyoshi's wet nurse and his physician brought the baby down to see his family. Farruo sulked at his brother stealing his parents' attention. When the wet nurse put Kuniyoshi down, he crawled to his father and, using Godo's knee for support, shakily pulled himself up to a standing position. When the baby looked up at him with wide, dark eyes, Godo's heart was warmed. "He has your eyes," he told Kasumi.

After the two boys returned to the palace, Godo and Kasumi remained in the pavilion to watch the sun set behind the mountains. "Kuniyoshi seems much stronger here," Godo commented.

Kasumi took a deep breath of the cool air. "I wonder if it's the air."

Godo turned to her. "Have you had time to think about whether you still want to have a daughter?"

"I do," she replied without looking at him. "But Kuniyoshi is still very young."

"I wasn't suggesting we should try now. But we should decide on what month we'll go to the astrologers. Maybe the month after Kuniyoshi's first birthday."

"Actually…"

"What is it?"

Kasumi was at a loss for words. It wasn't the physical intimacy that she feared as much as the thought that it wasn't purely physical. She let this happen once: she gave Godo a place in her heart that she had never given to anyone else. When she found out that she had no such place in his heart, the discovery shattered her. When he came to the monastery and they hiked down the mountain together, she swore to herself that for both their sakes, she wouldn't make the same mistake again. But here she was, on the verge of making that mistake, because she couldn't keep her emotions separate from their physical relationship.

Godo lowered his voice so the eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting couldn't hear him. "My Empress, you asked me not to hide things from you because you are my wife. I am asking you the same thing now because I am your husband."

"I spoke as an Emperor's wife then. And I only asked you to tell me what you want to do as Emperor. I didn't ask you to let me into your heart."

Godo wanted to ask, "What if I wanted you to?" But Kasumi was painfully clear. She did not want his heart, and she did not want to give him hers.

In the days that followed, Godo was quiet. When he didn't ask Kasumi if she wanted to go to Nanchan for the Seventh Night Festival, she began to wonder if she had been too harsh. _I'm sorry. I'm doing this for both our sakes,_ she thought.

A few weeks after Seventh Night, the imperial family returned to the capital. With the retreat of summer, fall descended on the city, crowning the trees with imperial yellow and kingly crimson. As usual, the Emperor's birthday was celebrated in the midst of this colorful majesty. Later that month was Kuniyoshi's first birthday. He was less energetic than he had been at the summer palace, but his physician was more optimistic about his chances than he was before the summer retreat. The weeks passed, the leaves fell, and frost began to cover the capital. At the beginning of the eleventh month, Kuniyoshi's physician informed Godo and Kasumi that Kuniyoshi had caught a fever a few days ago and was not improving. "I will do the best I can, but be prepared for the worst," he advised.

The next evening, Kasumi received a message from the physician saying that Kuniyoshi was struggling to breathe, and that it was the beginning of the end. Lady Usui and several other ladies-in-waiting accompanied her to the nursery. Godo was sitting on the steps outside, head in his hands. Kasumi rushed inside and found Kuniyoshi lying on his small bed. The baby turned to her when she appeared in the door. He was listless and thin, and didn't seem to recognize her.

Kasumi ran to the bed. "I'm here, Kuniyoshi. Mama is here."

"Your Majesty, please leave," the physician urged. "The disease is infectious."

The ladies-in-waiting came in to take Kasumi outside, but she shook them off. "Your Majesty, if you stay here too long, you will catch the disease too. Please go," the physician said impatiently.

This time two eunuchs came forward to take Kasumi. "Kuniyoshi!" she cried. "Don't leave us. Your parents love you."

And then she remembered how she resisted spending time with him when he was born, and how she didn't think she was capable of loving him. Outside the nursery, she sank to her knees and watched the doors slam shut.

_I closed my heart to him. So the gods took him away._

After Kuniyoshi died, time seemed to pass differently for Kasumi. During the morning reading session, she would open to a page and not read a word by the time it was time to have breakfast. While she and Godo prepared for the court session, she lapsed in and out of concentration. During court sessions, she struggled to focus on the discussions. Two weeks later, at the banquet for the Emperor and Empress's wedding anniversary, she hardly touched her food.

Godo summoned his sister Rina to the Palace to ask her advice. "Talk to her," Rina answered simply. "She's keeping her feelings penned up inside. You need to get her to talk about them."

"You should do it. Men don't talk about feelings," Godo protested.

"She trusts you more."

"Does she?"

"Don't worry about not being able to say the right words, and don't pressure her to talk if she isn't ready. Just tell her you'll be there to listen."

He couldn't convince Rina otherwise, so that night, he went to Kasumi's room and dismissed Lady Usui so he and Kasumi could be alone. He and Kasumi sat in silence while he tried to find the words. "You… haven't been yourself since Kuniyoshi died," he said finally. "I know… I'm asking for something you don't want to share. But… Kuniyoshi was my son too. If you are grieving for him… please share that with me. If… there is anything else in your heart, please share that with me. You are my wife." He remembered Kasumi's words when she confronted him about climbing the Pagoda. "My life and yours are the same. When you are hurt, I am hurt too. So… if there's anything you need to talk about… I'm here."

Her eyes brimming with emotion, Kasumi simply looked at him in silence. When the time came for them to go to sleep, Godo promised he would return the next evening and stood up to return to his quarters. The next evening, they sat in silence again. On the third night, Kasumi finally spoke. She apologized making him wait. Talking about feelings was utterly foreign to her. Her father and her brother were soldiers who valued stoicism, and as a child she had no friends because she preferred studying to sparring. She was afraid that her inability to emotionally connect with others made her a lesser woman and a bad mother. Her failure to discover Godo's affair on her own and be an affectionate mother to their children had confirmed that fear. So she couldn't help believing that Kuniyoshi's death was somehow her fault because she didn't love him enough.

When she finally finished, Godo found himself responding without a moment's hesitation. He asked her not to believe that her emotional distance made her a lesser woman, because it was what helped her rise to the position of a scholar-official in the imperial court and made her the ally he needed his Empress to be. Whenever he became frustrated with the agonizingly slow pace of change in Wutai and began to question if saving the Empire was even possible, it was her steady patience that gave him the will to keep going. He asked her not to believe that she was a bad mother, and just to give what she could give. He had never doubted that she loved their children, no matter what that love looked like.

The earnestness of his voice, the way he articulated his words as if each one mattered, the intent look in his eyes—Kasumi had seen it before, and yet she felt as if she were seeing it for the first time: the emotion with which he spoke about his determination to save the Empire. But he was talking to _her_, coaxing her out of her grief and back into the life she shared with him. Like a sudden light overwhelming the darkness, emotion filled her heart—yet it did not chase away the shadows of her sorrow, but warmed them. Like the sun on freshly fallen snow, it was dazzling, almost harsh—yet with beauty and warmth that could not but heal.

"Kasumi?"

Tears were beginning to spill from Kasumi's eyes. Mortified, she stumbled to her feet and made for the door, but from behind, Godo wrapped his arms around her. Gently, he turned her around and wiped away her tears. When the tears kept coming, she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. As he held her, Godo was surprised to find tears in his own eyes.

_All this time, I wanted you to need me,_ he realized._ You never needed me… until now. It's not that I want you to be weak. I want you to be as strong as you always have been. But… I want to be your strength. When you can't go on, I want to be there for you._

Over the next month, life finally began to return to normal. By the time her birthday and the New Year came around, Kasumi was smiling again as she watched Farruo play with his cousins. It was only as she began to return to her usual, brisk self that Godo began to notice the habits he had missed when she was grieving. He didn't even know if there was anything unique about the inflection of her voice when she said "Your Majesty," the way she held her writing brush, the softening of her expression when they visited Farruo together. He only knew that he treasured them.

When summer came and the imperial family relocated to the summer palace, he and Kasumi spent their afternoons walking around the lake together. They talked about everything from politics to palace gossip, from their childhood years to their life together—sometimes laughing and sometimes arguing; sometimes talking animatedly and sometimes walking in contented silence. By the end of the summer, Kasumi wondered, _How did I ever think I knew him before now?_

On this particular year the imperial family returned to the capital before the Seventh Night Festival. On the night of the festival, the banqueting pavilion was full of light, music, and color as opera singers performed the story of the Weaver and the Herder. But Godo wasn't paying attention. Kasumi was telling him about her favorite memories from her service in Puhua Si: the morning she saw her first snowfall, the moment she met the Puhuanese divers by crashing into one of them during a torrential downpour, the afternoon when the divers pushed her into the ocean to teach her how to dive, the rainy night she snuck into the Prince Gao-tsu's archives to retrieve the evidence of the smuggling. The stories themselves were fascinating, but even more enthralling was the sound of her voice, kept to a low murmur to avoid attracting attention from the opera. When she finished, the opera was about halfway through: the Herder and the Weaver overcame their shyness and were beginning to fall in love. The rest of the opera ran its course, with the Herder and the Weaver neglecting their duties, being separated as punishment, grieving, and reuniting on the seventh night of the seventh month.

After the opera, while the mother of one of Kasumi's students greeted her, Rina approached Godo and commented, "I take it you two are reconciled now."

"What?" He was suddenly self-conscious at the thought that Rina had been watching them. "What makes you say that?" he asked defensively.

"Do you really think no one noticed you two talking for the entire opera?"

"It wasn't the whole opera! It was just half."

"Sure. But I'm curious," Rina said. "I'm guessing you finally got her to talk about her feelings, but what did you say? What did she say?"

Godo was reluctant to share what they had discussed. "I… don't remember exactly, but we shared parts of ourselves that we'd never shared before."

"Really? But it's not like you've never slept together."

"That's _not_ what I was talking about!"

At the sound of his raised voice, Kasumi turned to him. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

"I'm just teasing my brother," Rina told her.

Kasumi laughed. "I see. Carry on."

When she returned to her conversation with the noblewoman, Rina apologized. "I couldn't help it. But I really want to know what happened."

Godo was silent, thinking about what had passed between him and Kasumi that night. "I think… grief has a way of… bringing people closer," he said slowly. "Sometimes it drives people apart."

"Like us and Father," Rina murmured.

Godo remembered their father, always listless and forlorn after his favorite concubine, Godo's mother, died. "Right. But grief doesn't always have to be that way. In the end, Kuniyoshi did bring us closer, even though it wasn't in the way we wanted."

Rina smiled. "I'm glad."

Godo looked over at Kasumi, who was smiling as she talked with the noblewoman. _And now I know,_ he thought. _We can persevere through anything as long as we have each other._


	14. The Evening Sun

In the autumn, Godo and Kasumi traveled two days' journey east to Youguo for an undercover inspection. Godo had offered to go since Kasumi went the previous year, but she insisted that there was nothing so important happening at the court at the moment that she couldn't take a few days off to go too.

The town of Youguo, the Empire's primary port, was built on the most forgiving stretch of the seaside cliffs that all but isolated Wutai from the rest of the world. Youguo had the unusual distinction of being the only flourishing town while the rest of the Empire fell into neglect: during his brief and mostly ineffective reign, the Thirteenth Emperor managed to keep the shipbuilding industry alive and establish a modern munitions factory, as if he had some instinct that the Empire's primary port should at least keep up the appearance that Wutai was ready to fight off any invasion. Even the Fourteenth Emperor and Takatsugu, at least during the first few years of his regency, had kept Youguo amply funded. One of Godo's first actions when he cleared the court of his uncle's corrupt appointees was to restore funding to Youguo. This was his first time visiting the town, and Kasumi was amused to see that he was like her brother when he was a teenager and their father presented him with a new sword.

Over their two days in town, Kasumi and Godo spent the day apart in order to see more of Youguo between the two of them and compile their observations in the evening. Kasumi's itinerary on the first day took her past the steps to the town's temple to Da-chao. She passed by it then, but as she walked by it the next day the rain showers turned into a downpour, so she ascended the steps and took shelter under the eaves. Lowering her umbrella, she walked around the temple to be out of the wind's path. When she rounded the corner she came upon the temple cemetery. In it was a row of small statues, each the size of an infant, and clothed with hats and blankets. In front of one of these statues stood an elderly woman under an umbrella. The woman was talking to the statue, but her words were lost in the rain. She turned around, saw Kasumi, and came to stand with her under the eaves. "Is one of those yours?" the woman asked, nodding at the row of statues.

"No." Kasumi hesitated. "But I did lose one. He was just over a year old."

"I see." The woman stared into the veils of rain. "I have one here. My next one, a boy, died after a few months. Finally we had a girl who grew up to be a very brave young woman. She joined the militia and had four kids. She was lucky not to lose one or two of them." She shook her head. "You never really forget them, even if they never had a name."

She hoisted the umbrella over her hunched frame and ambled away.

That night Kasumi and Godo wrote down the results of their investigation. As Kasumi packed away the writing tools, Godo admitted that he had spent his free time sneaking around the munitions factory. "It's not much compared to what they're doing in the West," he said in an attempt at modesty. "So, what did you do in your free time?"

After a moment's hesitation, Kasumi told him about the temple graveyard. Godo was silent for a moment, and then said hesitantly, "The death anniversary is in six weeks. And I was thinking… after that…"

Kasumi knew what he was going to ask. He seemed to misread her expression, because he quickly said, "But if you don't want to, I'll understand—I know that the pain of losing him will never completely heal—"

"No," she assured him, "that's not what I was thinking at all. It's true that part of me will never stop mourning him. But there's a difference between living with the pain and living in it. What I mean is," she said, her face flushing with emotion, "I want to have another child. After the anniversary, let's try for another child."

And his face was suffused with a kind of joy she had never seen before.

Six weeks later Godo, Kasumi, Farruo, and their entourage of eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting visited Kuniyoshi's grave. While Farruo and the entourage kept its distance, Kasumi and Godo approached the gravestone. "Kuniyoshi," Godo said, "it's been a year since you left us. You were only with us for a short time, but your father, your mother, and your brother loved you."

Kasumi hesitated, her chest tightening. Godo took her hand in his, and his touch gave her the strength to say quietly, "Kuniyoshi, your father and I are going to try for another child. That doesn't mean we're going to forget you. You will always be part of our family. Always."

The court astrologers gave Kasumi the list of auspicious dates. On the first date, as Kasumi began to undress, Godo began to extinguish the lamps. When he came to sit in front of Kasumi and undress, the room was still light. Kasumi glanced at the still-burning lamps and thought about putting them out, but looking at her husband, she knew that their marriage had changed: that now they could look at each other without embarrassment, that they would no longer hide from each other under cover of darkness.

Afterwards, Kasumi watched her husband sleep, her eyes tracing and retracing the features she knew so well: his widow's peak, his strong eyebrows and nose, his angular jaw. So absorbed was she that it took Lady Usui calling through the door for her to remember that she had to leave. Reluctantly, she put her yukata on, extinguished the lamps, and left the room. Alone in her own bed, she turned to her side and imagined Godo lying beside her. She suddenly became aware of a fierce warmth inside her: a lamp burning fiercely as if it would never go out, as if something had awoken inside her that could never return to sleep.

Godo woke the next morning facing the empty spot where his wife lay when he fell asleep. She was different last night. Before, part of her had always held back; last night, when she kissed him and caressed him, she was completely with him. He was afraid he had just imagined it, but on the next auspicious date, and then every auspicious date after that, she was the same way. When they were walking or sitting side by side and she wanted to speak to him, she began to touch his arm, even though there were almost always eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting watching them. He began to crave her touch more and more. Whenever they were alone, he offered his hands to help her to her feet, even though he often had to go around the table to do so. He used to think that she would shrink back at his touch, but whenever their hands touched, her shining eyes made him think of a mountain stream sparkling in the sun, so clear that he could see the bottom.

By the time Kasumi realized that she had fallen into what she once feared, she knew it was too late to turn back—and yet the thought gave her so little alarm that she forgot about it the next time she kissed her husband. She had been afraid because of what their marriage was at the time. Now it was something else entirely. She didn't know what it was, but something told her that it was what they were meant to become all along. Whether or not that was true, she knew for certain that she was no longer afraid.

In the spring, the ambassadors Kasumi and Godo had sent to the West the previous year returned to the capital. On the morning they were scheduled to speak to the court, Godo went to the Empress's quarters to wake Kasumi. He had noticed that she seemed tired over the last few days and ordered her attendants to let her sleep in this morning. When he came to her room, she was dismayed that she had missed the morning reading session. "I told the ladies-in-waiting not to wake you up," Godo explained. "How are you feeling?"

"I could be better." She pressed a hand to her chest and winced. Wide-eyed, she looked at Godo, and she knew from the look on his face that the same realization had dawned on him: just as they had wished, she was pregnant again.

He smiled sadly. "Kuniyoshi has sent us another child."

He regretted the words when he saw the pain in Kasumi's eyes. "We have an important meeting today," he reminded her as he helped her to her feet.

"How much time do I have?"

"About an hour."

She walked Godo to the doors and instructed, "Don't let the ambassadors into the throne room until I arrive." He laughed. "You know how it is," Kasumi insisted. "Once they're in the room, everyone will start asking questions. It will all be over before I arrive."

"Then I'll keep them out of the room until you come," Godo promised.

"I'll get dressed as fast as I can."

He lingered, and Kasumi was startled to see that he looked almost sad. He was thinking of the new child in her womb. She would carry that child, her body changing itself to nurture and protect it, for eight more months. _I wish you didn't have to carry that burden alone,_ Godo thought._ It's unfair for you to go through that while I just stand by your side._

"Is something wrong?"

Godo squeezed her hand. "I'll see you soon," he said. The ladies-in-waiting opened the doors for him, and he left her room.

After the Empress entered the throne room and sat next to the Emperor, the ambassadors entered and began the account of their year in the West. They spoke of a strange city built of metal in the middle of a desert. At its center were the offices of a company named Shinra. But Shinra was unlike any ordinary company: it had its own police force in addition to specialized military units. When President Shinra heard of the Wutainese ambassadors' presence, he met with them to ask whether his own representatives might be welcome to the mysterious Empire of Wutai. The ambassadors had returned to relay his request to the Emperor. After a short discussion, the Emperor, the Empress, and the scholar-officials agreed to receive Shinra's representatives. They elected to send two of the ambassadors back to Shinra to relay their message and accompany Shinra's representatives on their journey to Wutai. The following month, the court received word that Shinra's representatives would arrive in the middle of the seventh month, after the imperial family returned from the summer palace.

The Empress proposed that in the meantime, the entire imperial court should review their studies of the Western language. It was already part of the course of studies for scholar-officials, but infrequent contact with the West meant that there were few opportunities to practice the language. Though disgruntled, the scholar-officials complied with the Empress's order. For his part, Godo was happy for the excuse to spend his evenings in Kasumi's room as they studied the Western language together. Sometimes he brought Farruo. The young boy was already proving to have his mother's sharp mind. As their son read simple sentences aloud in the Western language, Kasumi's delight brought a smile to Godo's face. It was while Farruo was reading aloud one night that Kasumi felt the first flutter of movement in her womb. Instinctively, she glanced up at Godo, realizing only belatedly that he couldn't possibly know what had just happened, and wishing she could share the wonder of that moment with Godo.

When the imperial household relocated to the summer palace, the language lessons intensified: Godo spent the mornings training and the afternoons studying the Western language with Kasumi. Sometimes, as they pored over a Western book together, Kasumi would rest one hand on her growing stomach, apparently absentmindedly. Whenever she did it, it made Godo think of their unborn child, and often he would get lost in imagining what this new child would be like—until Kasumi interrupted to ask if he was paying attention.

On the last night of the imperial household's stay at the summer palace, Kasumi and her entourage went down to the lakeside pavilion below her residence. The night was warm and still, but it was the clear sky with its myriad of glittering stars that captured Kasumi's attention. Tomorrow they would return to the capital. Soon after that, Shinra's representatives would arrive. When they did, every moment of Kasumi and Godo's life would be dedicated to diplomacy: they would talk, show the representatves around the Palace and the capital, and host banquets and operas to show off their culture. The thought should have excited her. She loved debating, discussing ideas, thinking about how she would explain Wutainese culture to foreign visitors. But she couldn't help feeling disappointed at the thought that between all these diplomatic activities there would no longer be time for her and her husband to spend together. Of course they would be together—but they wouldn't be alone together.

"Your Majesty." A series of murmurs made Kasumi turn around, and she watched her ladies-in-waiting file out of the pavilion while Godo approached her. They exchanged greetings and stood side by side, looking up at the stars.

After a short silence, Godo spoke. "Would you laugh at me if I said I was afraid?"

"Of what?"

"Of going back. Of facing Shinra Electric Power Company."

"You, who almost died to become the Master of the Pagoda?"

"I'm not afraid of anyone on the battlefield. I've always been confident in my skill as a martial artist. But as a statesman, an international figure, as someone expected to represent everything that is good about Wutai and defend everything that is bad?" He sighed. "We've heard so much about this company. They're more powerful than any government in the West. If rumors are to be believed, they've taken control of every government in the world—every government except for Wutai."

"Are you worried that they'll try to use this meeting to change that?"

"No. We talked about that: they can only do as much as we let them do. But I'm worried about what they'll see. We see an Empire coming back to life after a century of illness. They might see an Empire that's still dying. They'll search for any sign of weakness. I feel like an actor in front of an audience waiting for him to make a mistake."

"But the audience doesn't know the play," she pointed out. "We know the Empire's strengths, and we know where it can still grow. We're the ones who write the play; they're the ones who want something from us. The burden of persuasion is on them. If anything, they're the actors. We're the audience."

She sensed the doubt in his silence and turned to him, wrapping her arms around him. "If you have nothing else, you have your Empress," she said. "You're not alone."

His tension eased. He pulled her closer, his abdomen pressing against her swelling stomach—

"Ah!" He jerked away. Kasumi, realizing what had just happened, burst into giggles. "What was that?" Godo demanded, staring at her stomach. "I felt something—something poked me—"

"That was…" Kasumi couldn't finish before she began to laugh again. "That was the baby!"

"The baby?" Godo repeated. "The baby moves?"

"Yes, of course." Kasumi straightened and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Farruo and Kuniyoshi did too. This one moves a lot more."

She took Godo's hand. A flash of memory—she and her husband standing in the Boat Pavilion, him reaching for her, her pushing him away—gave her pause. But this time she pressed his hand to her belly. Gazing down, she murmured, "It's your father. Say hello."

After a moment of stillness, something pushed against his hand once, twice. Godo stared at his hand in wonder, trying to imagine the child that lay beneath, the child he and Kasumi made. When he raised his eyes to Kasumi's face, she was smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her smile like that. A surge of emotion came over him, and he wrapped his arms around her again, this time staying when the baby prodded him from inside the womb. _I have my Empress,_ he repeated to himself. _As long as we have each other, everything will be all right. _

A few days after the imperial family returned to the capital, Shinra's representatives arrived. They were a group of about twenty, and despite the stifling heat, the men were all dressed in black. Kasumi, whose grasp of the Western language was better than Godo's, welcomed the representatives and assured them that they would be treated with hospitality. The leading representative, a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his early forties, greeted the Emperor and Empress, introduced himself as Knox, and expressed his hope that both Shinra and Wutai would learn much about each other.

Over the following months, Shinra's representatives observed imperial court proceedings, followed the Emperor to the dojo for his afternoon practice sessions, sat in on the Empress's classes with her young students, and dined with the imperial family. When they expressed their wish to travel around the country, Godo appointed his brother Akiyoshi to accompany them. It was clear that the scholar-officials disapproved of these foreigners' apparent disrespect for the Emperor and the imperial family—for starters, the representatives didn't perform the nine bows due to the Emperor—but both Kasumi and Godo had privately agreed that they were willing to put aside the usual formalities in order to be approachable.

Knox approached Godo to ask if he could interview the Emperor. Godo agreed, as long as Kasumi was there in case they needed help with translation. The three sat down in the Emperor's office. Knox asked Godo about his childhood, his education and martial arts training, when he became Emperor, and his goals as Emperor. Godo answered each of the questions with Kasumi's help. A few days later, Knox's wife Suzy, a petite woman with olive skin and curly black hair, sat down with Kasumi for an interview of her own. First Suzy asked about Kasumi's background. Then she asked how Kasumi met the Emperor. Kasumi explained that she met him when she appeared at court to be appointed as a scholar-official, the first woman to do so in nearly two hundred years. When Suzy asked how she got married to the Emperor, Kasumi told the story of their decision to be allies in saving the Empire.

When she finished her answer, Suzy looked down at the rest of her questions and said, "You don't deserve these questions."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm supposed to ask you what you like about the Emperor, how you support him in his efforts to rule Wutai, your thoughts on Wutainese and Western fashion."

"Your husband asked His Majesty much more interesting questions."

Suzy smiled wryly. "I know. But this is the script Shinra's public relations department gave me."

"What do _you_ want to ask me?"

Suzy asked Kasumi more about her studies to prepare for the civil service examinations, how she and the Emperor shared administrative duties, her side job teaching the Wutainese noblewomen's daughters, and her family. "We met your son, and I see you have a child on the way," she added. "Congratulations." After Kasumi told Suzy about Kuniyoshi, Suzy smiled sadly. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I'm jealous. My husband and I tried for years."

"I see. I am sorry."

At the conclusion of Kasumi's interview, Kasumi asked if Suzy would answer the same questions she had asked Kasumi. Suzy happily obliged: she was born in Mideel, the island country to the southwest of Wutai. When she was young, her family moved to a town called Kalm, where she first heard about Shinra Electric Power Company. She met Knox when she began working at Shinra, and soon they began dating.

"What is 'dating'?"

"It's spending time together to get to know each other. In the past it was how two people decided whether they wanted to get married." Suzy went on to describe the different dates she and Knox went on: going to restaurants, watching movies, taking long walks together. When he asked her to marry him, he bent down on one knee and presented her a small box with a diamond ring inside it.

"This is the Western tradition?" Kasumi asked.

Suzy gave a slightly embarrassed grin. "Yeah. That's our tradition, I guess."

Kasumi lay in bed that night thinking about Suzy's description of her courtship. She tried to imagine Suzy and Knox at a restaurant, at a movie theater, in a park together. She knew what those places looked like; she had seen drawings and photographs of them. But instead her imagination showed her scenes of Godo and herself drinking sake together, watching opera performances in the banqueting pavilion, walking around the lake together. All this was done after they were married.

_If we did this "dating" before we got married, we wouldn't have gotten married in the first place. We would've run screaming back to our parents and the matchmaker and begged for another match. But here we are, still married after a near divorce, with our third child on the way._ And she smiled to herself at the irony. She meant to share the thought with Godo the following evening as they sat side by side during the Emperor's birthday celebrations, but somehow all the humor had gone out of the thought. At first she thought it was because she had waited too long, but as the banquet went on she wondered if it was because she couldn't imagine her life without him.

Later that month, Kasumi stopped attending court sessions to prepare for the baby's birth. Her labor began in the morning while Godo was at court, so she sent a eunuch to bring him the news after the session. As soon as he heard the news, Godo hurried to the nursery to wait in the room next door to the one where Kasumi was laboring. Lady Usui informed him that the doctor who came with Shinra's representatives wanted to witness the birth; reluctantly, Godo agreed. After waiting all afternoon and all evening, he spent the night in the nursery. When he woke up again in the morning, Kasumi still hadn't given birth. Later in the morning, he heard the voices behind the walls turn anxious: "It's no use. The baby won't come out."

"Is the baby stuck?" a voice asked in the Western language. Godo realized it was the Western doctor. "I can do a C-section."

After this was translated, the midwives reacted angrily. "No, no! She has to try harder first!" "We never cut open the womb unless the woman is dying. It isn't our custom." "Her Majesty is strong. She must do her best first!"

"I've been watching her try for too long," the Western doctor snapped. "She shouldn't have to go through this. I can get the baby out."

"You must speak with His Majesty," Doctor Yao responded after the doctor's words were translated.

Shortly afterwards, the doors slid open to admit the Western doctor. "The Empress's life is not in danger," she assured him. "But she doesn't need to suffer like this. I can have the baby delivered soon if you give me permission."

Godo strode into the other room and went to Kasumi's side. She looked up at him, her face twisted in pain. He took her hand and told her, "The Western doctor wants to use surgery to deliver the baby. Will you be all right?"

"I just want the baby out," she whispered.

Godo released her hand and turned to the doctor. "Do it," he ordered in the Western language. "If the Empress or the baby dies—"

"Don't worry. She'll be fine, and so will the baby," the doctor said firmly.

Godo returned to the other room, listening to every sound that came from behind. It was almost silent, except for the Western doctor's occasional orders, followed by the translator.

Godo knew it was done when he heard the familiar high-pitched wail of the newborn baby. Shortly afterwards, Doctor Yao presented him with the baby, announcing, "A girl, Your Majesty."

"A girl?" he repeated incredulously, staring down at the wide-eyed baby in his arms. She blinked up at him as if she were equally astonished. "The baby that moved and kicked so much, that wouldn't come out… is this little girl?"

The baby began to fuss. Godo tried to shush her, but her whimpers soon turned into wails. Doctor Yao took her. As Godo approached Kasumi, the Western doctor pulled a sheet over her abdomen. When Godo sat down, Kasumi turned to him, her eyes heavy. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, only belatedly remembering that they weren't alone. "Get well soon," he murmured. "I'll see you in a month."

The next day, he brought Farruo to see his new sister. The baby was fast asleep in her cradle. "She's so small," Farruo commented.

"You were once that small, too," said Godo. "So was Kuniyoshi."

"Will she grow bigger?"

"Yes, but she will always be smaller than you." Godo looked intently into Farruo's eyes. "You are the oldest child. It is your duty to protect your sister and any younger siblings you might have in the future. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," the boy responded solemnly.

From the other side of the wall, Godo heard Doctor Yao's voice, and Kasumi's voice responding. "Is that Mother?" Farruo asked. "Can we go see her?"

"No. She's recovering." When Farruo looked confused, Godo explained, "Having a baby hurts her. She needs a month to rest and recover."

"Why does she do it if it hurts?"

There was a straightforward answer: because the Kisaragi line had to continue. But if that answer was enough before, it wasn't anymore. It wasn't even the reason this baby girl was here. _We wanted to have a daughter because we just wanted to have a daughter. And even before we knew she was a girl, we just wanted to have another child._

"Look at your sister," he told Farruo. Together, they looked at the sleeping baby: the wisps of dark hair, her tiny nose, her round red cheeks. "When I look at her, I think, 'How could I not want more children?'" Godo murmured. "The pain is short. The joy lasts a lifetime. I think your mother would say the same."

He looked at the wall behind the cradle. Kasumi was somewhere on the other side of that wall. The distance was so short, the time so long. She was so close yet so far.

_It's only been one day, but I miss you so much._

From the other side of the wall, Kasumi heard her husband's and her son's voices, but couldn't distinguish the words. She heard the doors of the baby's room close behind them, heard their footsteps in the hallway, one pair heavier than the other, and heard them stop before her door. She imagined her husband on the other side of that door, a month away. Then she listened to those footsteps retreat.

The wet nurse brought the baby girl so Kasumi could hold her for the first time. The baby remained sound asleep as Kasumi admired her fine eyelashes and nose. "I thought it was a boy," Kasumi told Doctor Yao. "She kicked and moved so much, and she didn't want to come out."

"She _is_ Your Majesty's daughter," Doctor Yao remarked. She bent down to examine the baby's face. "She is going to look like you. I can tell."

"I hope she won't look exactly like me. She should have something of her father. Did you see her eyes? Are they the Emperor's color?"

"I couldn't tell in this light, Your Majesty."

A few days after his daughter's birth, Godo received the news that the Empress Dowager was ill. Akiyoshi, Riko, Rina, and Godo took turns visiting her. When he visited, Godo brought Farruo. "Say hello to your grandmother," he told Farruo.

When Farruo formally greeted her, the Empress Dowager stared at him with a conflicted expression on her face. "Poor children," she murmured. "To never meet your real grandmothers. I am a poor substitute."

"You treated my siblings and me fairly," Godo reminded her. "As the head of the imperial household, you have watched over our family. They say that when the imperial family is at peace, so is the nation."

"Are we at peace?" the Empress Dowager asked doubtfully. "Akiyoshi cannot have children. Akisada has abandoned our family. And do you think you have reversed a century of decline in ten years? The Empire is nowhere near as strong as it once was. You have made a mistake in welcoming the Westerners to our country. They have not come to offer their friendship. They have only come to watch the sun set on the Land of the Rising Sun. They will make it set faster if they can."

Godo laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "This is the boy you named Farruo, Prince of the Spring Dawn. He is strong like me and intelligent like his mother. Whatever the Empress and I cannot achieve with the time we have left, Farruo will continue, and what he cannot do, his son will continue. Even if it takes another century, we will save the Empire."

"I wish I could share your hope," the Empress Dowager responded with a sigh. She closed her eyes.

In light of the Empress Dowager's death, the celebrations for the Princess's one-month birthday were subdued. Over the baby's cries, Godo announced that the Empress Dowager's last wish was to name the newborn baby Yuffie, with the title Xi'eu, Princess of the Evening Sun.


	15. The Western Way

After the banquet Godo invited Kasumi to his room so they could talk privately. Over sake Kasumi expressed her condolences for the Empress Dowager's death and her regret that they were never on the same page. "You always told me she was the mother you never had," she said. "She protected what she held dear. I always admired her for that. I just wish she hadn't seen me as a threat."

"I don't think she thought you were a threat. If anything, I think she was jealous of you."

"Jealous? Why?"

"I think she knew that something had to change if we wanted the Empire's decline to stop, but she never knew what she could change without also changing something she didn't want to change. I think she admired that you know what to change without changing too much."

"You give me too much credit. You do half of the work. I only do what anyone else in my position would do."

"No," he said, so quickly and loudly that Kasumi was startled. "I think the Empress Dowager admired you more than she was willing to admit," he said, and his face began to turn red as if indignant that its owner wasn't willing to say what he meant.

Changing the subject, Kasumi told him about the time she spent with Yuffie while in recovery. "The physician tells me she's very healthy and energetic," she added.

Godo laughed. "I believe it, from the way she screams."

As he told her about his visits with Yuffie there seemed to be a lump in his throat, composed of the words that he couldn't bring himself to say: that he had visited the nursery to spend time with the baby, yes, but in the precious few moments when the baby girl lay fast asleep in his arms he hoped to hear his wife's voice from the room next door. For her part, Kasumi thought she had made up her mind to tell him that she had listened every afternoon for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway outside and for his voice when he spoke to the baby.

But when Lady Usui called through the doors that it was time for the Empress to return to her quarters, she decided she would tell him another time. They wished each other good night, and Kasumi left for her quarters.

Godo went for a walk in the garden before going to bed, but even the fierce chill of Wutai's winter wasn't enough to quench the fire inside him—not a raging, consuming fire, but a warm, bright flame. When he responded forcefully to Kasumi's assertion that she only did what any other Empress to do, he had only meant to say that her approach to imperial policy was unique. For a moment he even believed that he was only saying it for her benefit. But now he realized that it was as if she had said his life would be no different if any other woman had been his Empress, and _that_ he could not accept.

He had a strange feeling that he could only understand by reference to combat. When he sparred he constantly had to judge when to hold his ground and when to attack. When he judged wrongly, as even the best fighters did, he compensated with a rapid defense. All of this—the decision, the realization of his error, the compensation—might happen in the blink of an eye. Now it seemed to be happening at one ten-thousandth that rate. He felt in his heart that he had made some mistake, and yet he didn't know what it was, or from what he had to defend himself next. He knew only that it had something to do with his wife. She wasn't the mistake, and she certainly wasn't the opponent against whom he had to defend himself. She was the decision. Of that much he was certain.

Now he was on the bridge that led to the pavilion. From the shadows of the pavilion he heard giggling, a man's voice, and then a woman's. Recognizing the latter, Godo strode towards the pavilion. "Go, go!" Riko's voice hissed. Two figures in the pavilion flew apart, one leaping onto the frozen pond to make its escape, the other flinging itself in front of Godo.

"Who was that?" he shouted.

"My husband!" Riko retorted. "What do you think a man has to do to be alone with his wife when he has concubines and children?"

"And when I ask your husband, what will he say?"

"You're not going to ask him," she said coldly.

"Do you think you can stop me?"

"Do you think the Empress will believe me if I tell her you've been sleeping with one of the ladies-in-waiting?"

"She would never believe a lie like that!"

"Should we find out?" When Godo didn't answer, Riko crowed triumphantly, "I thought so."

He clenched his teeth. "Who are you?" he demanded. "The sister I knew wouldn't have an affair and threaten to lie to her sister-in-law!"

"You think you can talk as if I'm the only one who ever had an affair!" Riko said scornfully. "You talk big about saving the Empire when you're what's wrong with it! At least in the West they don't pretend to be all virtuous!"

"Who are you to talk about what's going on in the West?" Suddenly it dawned on him: "That man, your lover, he's one of the Shinra representatives, isn't he?"

In the angry silence that followed Godo thought he had cornered her, but she said icily, "If you're so smart, you'll know that if anyone hears one word about this, it's the Empress who will suffer. Don't think I can't do it. I won't be the kind of Princess who stands to be pushed around. That's what making love to a Western man taught me," she concluded smugly.

Intent on having the last word, she pushed past Godo and stalked across the bridge. "A Wutainese woman doesn't need a Western man to tell her how to think," he wanted to retort. The thought of his wife stopped him. If Riko had threatened him he still would have told her husband. But she had threatened his wife. He had given Kasumi enough heartbreak. He never wanted to see her go through that again, even over such a bald-faced lie as the one Riko threatened to tell.

Even as he reeled with disgust at Riko's infidelity, he knew that Riko was so far gone that even if she fell from her place, she would destroy everything she could possibly destroy as she fell. He knew it hadn't happened in a day, that it had happened over years of boredom as she watched her husband build a life with his concubines and the children he had with them, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that she had had no choice but to act the way she did.

During the next morning's reading session Kasumi noticed Godo's scowl. She waited until the end of the session to ask, "What's wrong?"

The scowl melted away almost immediately as he grasped her hands to help her to her feet and said, "It's been unbearable without you."

And the anger from the memory of the previous night suddenly gave way to wonder that he had allowed himself to be honest.

Later that morning, after observing the morning court session, Knox approached the stairs to the throne to ask the Emperor for a favor. The Western New Year was coming up, he said, and he and the other representatives wished to use one of the Palace's banqueting halls for their celebrations. "What do you do?" Kasumi asked. "How do you celebrate?"

"Nothing wild. We dance, have a few drinks, do the countdown."

"What is a 'countdown'?" Kasumi asked.

"You count the seconds until the New Year."

Kasumi and Godo looked at one another and agreed. "Will you let us watch?" Godo asked.

"Of course! We would love for you to join us."

On the eve of the Western New Year, Godo and Kasumi sat on the thrones on the dais while the celebration effervesced before them. Music blared from a black box in the center of the room: "The music is mostly from our parents' generation," Suzy had explained to Kasumi. "We're going for the retro theme this year."

Kasumi did not understand what she meant. The music was speckled with strange rhythms and unfamiliar harmonies. Over it all, a man crooned with a silk-smooth voice. Then something strange happened: the representatives began to pair up and dance, hands clasped and arms draped around each other. There didn't seem to be any coordination: each pair danced the steps in a different sequence, and some even to a different rhythm.

Suddenly, one of the men turned the boombox off and announced, "One minute to the New Year!"

After a moment of silence, the representatives laughed. "You should've announced thirty seconds," Suzy called. "What will we do for a whole minute?"

The other representatives began their own countdown from sixty, but the man who had stopped the boombox corrected them to start at forty-nine. Their voices rising towards the end, they counted down all the way to zero—and then, to Kasumi and Godo's utter astonishment, the representatives began to kiss. Afterwards, the celebration continued, but Godo and Kasumi had seen enough for the night and left the hall for their quarters, their entourage in tow. Outside Godo remarked, "That was… interesting."

"I liked the dancing," Kasumi commented. "I've never seen anything like it."

"What did you like about it?"

"It was just… so spontaneous. So… free. They didn't have to plan what came next. It looked fun."

The next evening, Godo visited Kasumi to ask, "What if we celebrated your birthday the Western way this year?"

It was the last thing Kasumi expected to hear. "The Western way?" she asked. "What would that be like?"

"I talked it over with Knox. It would be simple. After the opera, there would be a short dance lesson from one of the representatives who used to teach dance, and then dancing for the rest of the evening."

The thought of learning how to dance in front of the entire imperial household made Kasumi cringe. "It doesn't have to be just us," Godo added. "I'll make my brother and my sisters join in. Maybe other members of the court will want to join too."

He looked more excited than Kasumi felt about the prospect. "All right," she agreed. "Let's do it."

"We don't have to do it if you don't want to."

"I do," she assured him. "Really."

Suzy was delighted when Kasumi told her the news. "Are you and the Emperor going to wear Western clothing?" she wanted to know.

The question surprised Kasumi. "I don't know. We did not think about it."

"You should!" Suzy looked at Kasumi from head to toe. "I can see it," she muttered, more to herself than to Kasumi. "A bold color for your skin tone. We could even curl your hair and pin it up Western-style. And the Emperor could wear a tuxedo. I can see it now."

"A tuxedo? What is that?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

The next afternoon, Suzy came to Kasumi's room with an armful of silk in different colors: scarlet, deep blue-green, sapphire blue, and dark purple. She dumped them on the table and unrolled each one, holding them up to Kasumi's bewildered face. "They all look wonderful," Suzy declared proudly. "It's up to you."

Kasumi glanced at each of the bolts, utterly mystified. Her tailor and her ladies-in-waiting always chose her clothes for her. She hadn't had to think about her clothes for years. The obvious choice was red, but she found her gaze returning to the purple silk. She laid her hand on it. "This one."

Suzy smiled knowingly. "The color of the Emperor's eyes."

"No. His eyes are a little different." Sometimes, on a clear day, they were the color of forget-me-nots, but deeper: almost blue rather than purple. At night the lamps gave his eyes a warm, golden tint.

Suzy asked Kasumi to stand while she took her measurements. Then she sketched various designs to show to Kasumi and noted her preferences. "I'll have this done by next week for you to try on," she promised.

"A week? So soon?"

"Not to brag, but I'm very good at it. I make most of my own dresses." Suzy smiled sadly. "I always wanted to have a daughter. I would've made all her clothes if I'd had the chance."

Suzy outdid herself: just a few days later, she presented Kasumi with the nearly complete dress. While she adjusted the hem, Kasumi examined her reflection. The fit was loose enough to hide the last vestiges of her postpartum belly, but close enough to flatter her figure. Suzy finished her adjustments and stepped back. "The Emperor will love it," she declared.

"Why does it matter what the Emperor thinks?" Kasumi asked. "I am wearing it."

In the mirror, Suzy gave her a strange look. "You're right. I guess it doesn't matter if you don't love your husband." She sighed. "To dress only for yourself. Why not?"

_If you don't love your husband._

The next morning, Kasumi joined Godo at the library as usual. Over breakfast, they discussed the court's agenda for that morning. After the court session, they had lunch, reviewed the court session, and divided tasks between them for the evening. Then they went their separate ways: she to S'zheng Hall to teach the young noblewomen, and he to the dojo. They spent the rest of the day apart.

It was only last year that they spent time together as often as possible and found every excuse to touch. She remembered the fierce warmth she used to feel whenever she looked at him. Was that all over now?

On the evening of Kasumi's birthday, Godo put on the clothes Knox had lent him. The Western clothes were stiff and stark in comparison to the flowing silk, bold colors, and rich embroidery of the Emperor's robes. "If all the men wear the same thing," Godo muttered, more to himself than to Eunuch Jang, "how do they know who is the most important person in the room?"

Since it was the coldest time of the year, Godo put on a long, heavy coat over the suit before he went outside with his entourage to wait for Kasumi and her attendants. It wasn't long before Kasumi arrived with her attendants. Like Godo, she was wearing a long coat. As she drew closer, Godo saw that her hair was curled and pinned up in the Western style, but without her phoenix hairpin. "Why aren't you wearing your hairpin?" he asked.

"It isn't Western."

"But you always wear it."

"I thought I could go without it this one time," she answered, annoyed.

"That hairpin is like a Western wedding ring. How will anyone know you are married?"

"Everyone knows we are married!"

Godo didn't pursue the subject. Together, he and Kasumi went to the banquet hall. Just inside the doors, the servants helped them out of their heavy coats. Kasumi looked expectantly at Godo. Attentive to Wutainese fashion, Adrienne had designed a dress with a high Wutainese collar, long sleeves, and a long, billowing skirt.

But Godo looked unconvinced. For her part, Kasumi realized just how uncomfortable her husband looked in Western dress, especially with his bun obstinately perched on top of his head. "Couldn't you do anything to hide that?" she asked, gesturing to the top of her head.

"Why would I hide it?" Godo asked indignantly. "It is—"

"A sacred bond with the ancestors. I know."

"Then why did you ask?"

As they proceeded to the thrones on the dais, Kasumi glanced over at Godo and began, "Would it be better if you let down…"

She imagined him with a long cascade of hair, cringed, and muttered, "Never mind."

Once they, the members of the imperial household, and the Shinra representatives were seated, the dinner began, but Godo had lost his appetite to embarrassment. _This was a mistake,_ he thought repeatedly._ Dressing up like Westerners? What kind of Emperor would do such a thing?_

After dinner, the performers cleared the floor. The representative named Jordan brought a boombox to the center of the floor. Suzy told Kasumi that he had worked as a dance instructor before inexplicably switching careers to work for Shinra, and he was the reason many of them could dance. There was a light in the man's normally weary face as he announced that he would teach them a variation on the traditional waltz. He summoned all prospective dancers to form a ring, including the Emperor and Empress. First he had them practice stepping in rhythm with the music. His wife came from the edge of the ring to help him demonstrate the proper waltz position: the man was to place his hand on the woman's back, providing a sturdy frame for the woman to rest her hand behind his shoulder. Their free hands were placed against each other, palm to palm. Jordan instructed them not to stand too close together: it was best for the partners to lean back into each other's arms while they danced. Finally he began to teach them the steps. Kasumi tripped several times on her first attempts, but the more they practiced, the more confident she became. Once they mastered the basic steps, Hansen taught them various spins, explaining that the man never made the woman do anything; a slight change in his touch was a signal that the woman could interpret at will. At first too strong, Godo learned to ease his touch.

The more they danced, the less Kasumi stared at her feet. She began to relax into the dance: the gentle yet firm pressure of Godo's hand on her back, the scent of him, the way the room seemed to whirl around the two of them. To conclude the lesson, Hansen allowed them to waltz to the entire song, without interruptions. Now everything melted away except the music, the solidity of their bodies, their racing hearts. The music concluded just in time for Godo to spin Kasumi and pull her back into his arms, bringing them face-to-face. It was then that she realized why she found Western dancing was so enticing: it was flirtation, seduction, freedom to enjoy each other's touch even under the scrutiny of others' eyes. Looking into her husband's eyes, she remembered the Seventh Night Festival, years ago, when she smashed into him as she danced with the crowd. She remembered his mortified expression, the way he snatched his arm away and made his escape. Now he looked entranced, and his arms around her were tight with anticipation. He imagined kissing her, freely, without a thought for the hundreds of people around them, the way the Shinra representatives had done during their New Year's celebrations. But even though their faces were already so close, even though his heart was racing at the thought of kissing her, he held back, his eyes locked on hers.

They released each other as a delighted Jordan came over to congratulate them. "You learned so quickly, Your Majesties," he said. "If you ever want to learn more dances, you only have to ask. I would be happy to teach you again."

Kasumi and Godo thanked Jordan and returned to their seats. The Shinra representatives began to distribute tall, thin glasses among themselves, popped bottles of champagne, and poured themselves drinks. Knox tapped on his glass with a chopstick and was oblivious to the disapproving stares around the room. "I propose a toast," he announced. "To the Emperor of Wutai."

The Shinra representatives raised their glasses in a chorus: "To the Emperor of Wutai!"

After they drank, Suzy raised her voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's not forget the birthday lady!" She lifted her glass in Kasumi's direction. "To the Empress of Wutai, who looks absolutely stunning tonight."

The hall echoed with "To the Empress of Wutai!"

Kasumi smiled to hide her annoyance that it was not her intelligence being toasted and tried to ignore the implication that she did not always look stunning.

When she turned to Godo, he was smiling at her. Earlier that evening he chastised himself for suggesting that they hold a Western-style party. Now he imagined that thirty years later, on the Empress's birthday, he and Kasumi would sit side by side in this same hall, wearing their imperial yellow robes, their hair crowned with silver streaks, their faces creased like the well-worn texts they read every morning, their two children—maybe by then there would be more than two—and grandchildren at the banqueting tables before them. _On that day, we'll look back on the night we learned how to dance like the Westerners, and we'll laugh. And I'll remember that it was on that same night that I realized I had fallen in love with my wife._

He poured himself a cup of sake and raised it to her. "To the Empress of Wutai," he said, adding to himself: _And the Empress of my heart._


	16. No Answer but War

Due to the Shinra representatives' presence, the imperial household stayed in the capital for the summer. It was Godo's first summer in the capital, and he complained to Kasumi so frequently that one day she suggested that he jump in the river. "Only if you come with me," he said.

"It was a joke."

"But it doesn't have to be."

That was how Kasumi found herself traveling with Godo, Farruo, and Yuffie to the base of the waterfall that fed the Lotus River. Disguised as a young family of nobles and accompanied by three plainclothes guards, three ladies-in-waiting, and Yuffie's amah, they passed through the forest north of the capital and reached the waterfall. The guards, the ladies-in-waiting, and the amah kept their distance and turned away while the family undressed to their underclothes. Kasumi sat eight-month-old Yuffie on the grass beside her, narrowly stopping the baby from innocently putting a fistful of grass in her mouth.

Watching her husband play with their son in the river, she could almost believe that they were just a normal family cooling down in the miserable heat. That man could just as likely be an ordinary citizen and soldier as the Emperor and Master of Battle. The boy playing in the water could just as well be another Wutainese boy as the Crown Prince. Maybe Kasumi herself was just a soldier's wife, not an Emperor's wife; maybe the baby beside her was just a baby, not the Princess of Wutai.

The boy quickly had his fill of the ice-cold water, so Godo lifted him out. Kasumi carried Yuffie to the water's edge so Godo could splash her feet. At the resulting shriek Kasumi quickly scooped the baby back up into her arms and cradled her, apologizing with a sheepish smile. Godo turned away to hide his face. Ever since he admitted to himself that he was in love with his wife, he was desperately afraid that she would find out. It was impossible that she felt the same: she was too smart to love him, too smart to fall in love at all, they were too different—the reasons went on and on. Part of him believed that he could tell her and she would simply accept his love even if she didn't feel the same, and he could love her openly as they continued living their daily life as Emperor and Empress—after all, they were already married. More likely, confessing his love would only make things awkward: the carefree friendliness she shared with him would disappear because she didn't want to lead him on. She was too honest to do otherwise.

Now Kasumi instructed Farruo to watch his baby sister. Kasumi climbed up to the top of the rock where Farruo had jumped and took the leap, crashing into the icy water. She surfaced, shuddering and gasping, "It's so cold!" But still she took a deep breath and plunged back in to touch the bottom of the river. Her hand plunged into the sandy riverbed and found… a mussel? She surfaced and wiped water out of her eyes. "Do you have a knife?" she asked Godo.

He climbed out of the river, searched his clothes, and came back with a knife. Although he insisted on shucking the mussel, it was clear that he didn't know how, so Kasumi did it instead. Nestled in the mussel's pale flesh were small, smooth stones.

Farruo ran over to see, leaving Yuffie behind. Indignant, the baby began to wail, so Godo went to get her. "What's that?" Farruo asked.

"It's a freshwater mussel. I found it at the bottom of the river. These are its pearls." Kasumi pointed to the mussels' insides.

Godo returned with the baby, and Kasumi gently pushed Yuffie's hand away when she reached for the mussel. Godo had never seen pearls like these: instead of round and white, they were pale pink and oddly shaped. "They're beautiful," he said.

"Most people wouldn't say so."

"Then they've never seen real pearls."

"A round white pearl is just as real," Kasumi pointed out, amused that he was so defensive of the misshapen pearls.

She bent down to put the mussel back in the river, but Godo insisted on extracting the pearls first. Kasumi took the baby from him so he could pick the pearls out of the flesh. He edged down towards the river to wash them, but lost his footing on the slippery rocks and plunged into the water. His hand was empty when he opened it. "You lost them?" Farruo gasped.

Godo peered down. "They couldn't have gone far. I think I can find them."

"Your Majesties!" one of the ladies-in-waiting called in the distance. "We must return to the Palace soon."

"Leave them, Your Majesty," Kasumi urged. "We have to go."

Godo climbed out of the river, clearly upset. Kasumi touched his arm and murmured, "We'll come back another time." His tension eased beneath her touch, and on the way back home his mood improved.

They returned to the Palace. The following day, Knox and the most senior Shinra representatives requested a private audience with the Emperor and the Empress. In the throne hall, Knox cleared his throat and began to speak, pausing every so often to allow the translator to translate his words into Wutainese.

"Your Imperial Majesties, as you know, Shinra Electric Power Company made its name by inventing a method of converting a subterranean energy called mako into electrical energy. We are proud to say that we have brought a world of good to countries across the globe by surveying their territory, identifying potential sites for mako reactors, and helping to build reactors along with an infrastructure for distributing electrical power. By making electricity available to all, we have helped improve living conditions and economies across the globe. I presume you know that our object in making this visit to Wutai was not only to learn about the rich culture of this great nation, but also to present a proposal that could decide Wutai's future. Over the past year my fellow representatives and I have surveyed Wutai's geographical features to identify potential sites for mako reactors. We found two sites with strong potential. One just happens to be this very spot. There is a very high concentration of mako just beneath our feet."

Kasumi and Godo traded glances. "According to our legends, a great battle of magic took place here," Kasumi said to Knox. "It is a place overflowing with energy."

"We would never consider building a reactor here," Godo hurriedly added.

"We knew this site was out of the question," Knox assured them, "so we would like to direct your attention to the other site: a cave on the eastern coast."

Knox marked the location on a map and gave it to a eunuch, who presented it to the Emperor with a bow.

"The sacred caves," Godo murmured. He looked up. "There are two places where legend says our ancestors did battle with the gods. One is here. The other is that cave by the cliffs."

"It can't be a coincidence. Have you found this to be the case in other countries where Shinra has worked?" Kasumi asked Knox.

"Some," Knox responded. "In those cases the site is associated with some kind of a local guardian spirit. But they're only legends."

"In those cases, did the governments you worked with agree to build the reactors?" Godo wanted to know.

Knox's tone was firm. "All of them, without exception."

Godo tapped the map. "That cave is sacred to the water god Leviathan. Wutai's history begins with our ancestors' struggle against Leviathan at the cave on the eastern cliffs. There the first feng shui dao master found a way to harness the energy of all creation to defeat Leviathan and prove to him that the Wutainese people were worthy of his protection. It is the most sacred place in all of Wutai."

"Modernized nations have moved beyond the idea of the sacred for the sake of progress. The sacred has value in the modern world, but only as a symbol. The governments with whom we've had the privilege of working knew that in a sense, a mako reactor is a modern shrine, a symbol of the god's power. It gives new life to the legend of sacred places. In this case, a mako reactor could be a symbol of Leviathan's power in the new, modern Wutai."

After the translator rendered this into Wutainese, there was a long silence. Finally Kasumi spoke. "As you know, the Emperor and I do not have absolute authority when it comes to decisions like these. We would like some time to discuss the issue with our court officials. We hope to have an answer in a week's time."

Knox nodded. "Take as much time as you need, Your Imperial Majesty. We look forward to hearing your response."

That evening, Godo visited the Empress's quarters to discuss immediate actions. He and Kasumi agreed that first of all, soldiers should be sent to the sacred grounds to ensure Shinra's representatives stayed away while the court debated Shinra's proposal. Godo then told Kasumi that Farruo would go too: he had reached the age at which all Princes traveled to the sacred cave of Leviathan to see the place where the people of Wutai earned their most ancient name: "the children of Leviathan."

According to tradition, Godo and Kasumi sent Farruo off in the throne hall. The boy bowed solemnly to his parents, promised to return with the understanding of Wutai's sacred origins, and set out with a force of Imperial Guards.

Over the next few days, the Emperor and Empress debated Shinra's offer with the imperial court. After Godo recounted Knox's offer, the court quickly split itself into those in favor and those against. Those in favor argued that the reactor would help Wutai keep up with the rest of the world and that Shinra's proposal could decide Wutai's future. Those against argued that the proposal would give Shinra power over Wutai and that the Empire was already taking steps, however slow, to build the infrastructure for the distribution of electricity across the country. They came to the conclusion that although the reactor could do a great deal of good for Wutai, it would also make the Empire dependent on a Western company. What they could do was work with Shinra to find an alternative energy source that would still allow electricity to be distributed across Wutai, but within a system that could be Wutainese-owned and operated.

On the day the Emperor and Empress were to give their decision to Knox, an Imperial Guard burst into the Emperor's office in S'zheng Hall. White-faced, he fell to his knees and said, "Your Majesty, the soldiers have returned from the eastern cliffs. The Prince… The Prince Chwun-xiong is…"

Godo and Kasumi hurried out of the hall and froze in their tracks. The soldiers, bloodied and disheveled, stood before the steps with heads bowed. One of them stepped forward bearing the limp body of the young Prince and laid it on the ground.

Godo's head spun. "No. It can't be."

The soldiers knelt, and their leader spoke. "Your Majesty, we deserve to die. As we were escorting the Prince Chwun-xiong to the cave, Shinra agents ambushed us. We fought them off, but it was too late."

After a long silence, Godo spoke, his voice trembling with anger. "Bring the Prince's body to the throne room. Tell Knox and the rest of the representatives to meet us there immediately."

The soldiers bowed and departed to do as they were told. In a daze, Godo and Kasumi made their way to the throne room and stood beside the body of their firstborn son. Kasumi, unable to bear the sight, turned around. When Knox and his fellow representatives arrived, Godo demanded, "Is there anything you have to say for yourself?"

In his rage he didn't bother to speak in the Western language, so the Shinra representatives' translator told Knox what the Emperor had said. Knox responded calmly, "We sent our Turks to scout the land to see if a reactor would be feasible nearby, instead of on, the cliffs. The last message we received from the scouting party was that Wutainese soldiers were firing on them. The Turks were on the defense. They did not target the boy. He was caught in the crossfire. Your Majesty, I am sorry for your loss, but please consider that none of our Turks survived."

When this was translated, the Wutainese soldiers began to angrily shout. "He lies!" "Shinra was the one that attacked us!" "They targeted the Prince, and we killed them for their crime!"

Godo raised his hand to silence them. Looking at Knox, he said icily, "Whatever happened, the truth is that Shinra is responsible for the death of Our son. All Shinra representatives are to be expelled from Wutai immediately. If there are any remaining in the capital by this time tomorrow, they will be imprisoned."

"Your Majesty, I understand your anger, but I must warn you," Knox answered tightly. "Do not provoke Shinra, or the people of Wutai will pay for it with their lives."

"No. It is Shinra that will pay, for the death of the Crown Prince of Wutai!"

Shaking his head in disgust, Knox whirled around and strode out of the throne hall, followed by his stone-faced fellow representatives. Godo ordered the soldiers to go to the dojo for medical care. When they left, Godo turned to Kasumi, the gravity of the situation quickly crashing down on him. "I went too far," he mumbled. "I couldn't… I didn't know how…"

Kasumi knelt down beside Farruo's body and touched his cold cheek. Now the fire of anger overtook the numbness of shock. _Shinra did this. Shinra murdered our son._ She looked up at her husband.

"No. You were right. There is no answer but war."

Shinra's representatives heeded the Emperor's warning: the soldiers who searched their accommodations the next day reported that the representatives had departed and taken everything. That same afternoon, an imperial decree written the previous night and approved by the imperial court in the morning was read aloud in the eight neighborhoods of the capital and passed along to messengers to be read across the Empire:

_On the last day of the sixth month, agents of Shinra Electric Power Company ambushed Wutainese soldiers accompanying the Crown Prince Chwun-xiong to the Cave of Leviathan. The Crown Prince was murdered in the attack. On this day the Emperor and Empress have declared war on Shinra Electric Power Company. All who are able and willing to fight for the glory of Wutai shall report to the dojo in the capital city before the fifteenth day of the seventh month._

After the official declaration, all imperial court sessions and individual meetings with officials had to do with the war. Whenever Godo could get away from the Palace, he was at the dojo with the rest of the Wusheng, organizing the thousands of men and women who responded to the imperial decree: it was Wutai's first international war, and no one seemed to want to miss the action. But the grim anticipation of war only lasted as long as Godo was away from his wife. Whenever he saw her, the doubts would flood in: _Should I stay here to protect her? Shouldn't we have another heir before I go to war?_ But his heart would remind him: _My ancestors who were Emperors and Masters of Battle wouldn't make excuses. They would say that I must protect the Empire first if I am to protect my family. And we must avenge Farruo. _He knew Kasumi agreed with him when they agreed that he would come home for one month each year. She didn't cling to him; she knew that before he was a husband and father, he was the Emperor and the Master of Battle.

Two months into the war preparations, the spies who were dispatched to the West immediately after the imperial decree reported that Shinra was spreading the news that Wutainese soldiers killed Shinra employees in a nationalist attack following a dispute over the proposed mako reactor. Claiming that the Wutainese intended to invade the city, Shinra vowed to preempt any such attack by launching an invasion of Wutai. "We think it possible," the spies had written, "that Shinra came to Wutai to see if they could build a reactor, and when they could not, to wage war instead." Shinra's first target was to be Wutai's major port at Youguo.

The Wusheng dispatched troops to every settlement on the coast, but assigned most of them to Youguo. The date of their departure was set for the thirtieth day of the ninth month. Godo spent his last days before the departure walking Kasumi through his regimented schedule. With the addition of morning and evening prayers, it was the same, except that in Godo's absence Kasumi would lead the court sessions, meet with officials, and complete all the paperwork alone. Godo asked his sisters Riko and Rina to help Kasumi. While Rina welcomed the chance to help, Riko refused.

On the night before the army's departure, Godo paid Kasumi one last visit in her quarters and placed a round object in her hand: the Leviathan Materia. Astonished, she caught his hand as he withdrew it. "No," she protested. "You'll need it. And even if you don't, you should send someone to travel around the world to unseal its full power. Wutai is on the brink of her first international war. Maybe it's finally time to unseal the Materia."

"I don't trust anyone enough to do that," Godo answered. "I know now that this Materia is as much a curse as it is a blessing: in my hands and yours it could save the Empire, but in anyone else's hands it could be used to destroy us. Besides, I have an army that will defend me to the death. But if Shinra attacks the capital, who will stop them?" He closed her hands around the Materia. "It has to be you. Promise me you'll practice using it."

Kasumi was taken aback by the look on his face. For the last three months he had looked grim and determined, like a man thirsting for vengeance. Now his expression was softened. It was the same way he looked at her when he comforted her after Kuniyoshi's death, sharing his heart with her. And even though she didn't understand why he was looking at her that way, she agreed to his request.

At daybreak the Emperor departed from the Palace to pray at the Temple of Heavenly Harmony. He asked the ancestors to guide Farruo's soul to rest, watch over Godo and the soldiers who were ready to give their lives for Wutai, and protect those who remained behind. Next he proceeded to the Pagoda to meet the Wusheng. When the auspicious time, mid-morning, came, they filed out of the Pagoda to find An-xi Square filled with tens of thousands of Wutainese soldiers, old and young, male and female. The central paths from the Pagoda to the Meridian Gate and from the Palace to the Temple were clear. The Wusheng took their place in the middle of the square.

The sky was clear, and the golden light of the autumn morning made the fiery trees around the square especially brilliant. The Emperor raised his voice to address the assembly. "Today," he declared, his voice ringing loud and clear in the square, "we march in memory of Our son Farruo, the Prince Chwun-xiong. We fight for the glory of Wutai and our guardian, Leviathan! May we return victorious, or else die in glory."

"Ten thousand years!" the crowd responded. Twice more they raised the cry, each time louder than the last.

Next the ritual bows began: first the soldiers, then the imperial family, and finally the Empress each bowed to the Emperor to thank him for protecting the Empire and leading them into battle. With one last glance at the figure in red at the top of the Palace steps, Godo turned to the Meridian Gate, and the army began the march out of the city.


	17. Anything but Love

After the army's departure, the daily routine kept Kasumi too busy to think about anything else. Late afternoons and evenings, formerly her time at leisure, quickly filled up with reading and paperwork without another person to split the tasks. _If this is what every day was like before we got married,_ Kasumi found herself thinking several times a day, _no wonder he wanted to marry someone who could help him with the paperwork._

Although the volume of work never decreased, she became accustomed to it, and soon she had a small window of time between the evening prayer and her bedtime. Her first instinct was to spend the time reading, but one day she decided to visit the nursery instead. When she appeared in the doorway, Yuffie excitedly crawled across the room to greet her. Kasumi sat down, and the baby pulled herself up to a standing position, holding onto Kasumi's knee. "Hello, Yuffie," Kasumi murmured with a smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it? But you're still so small and so cute."

The baby looked up at her in delighted silence and reached up with her chubby hand as if she wanted to touch Kasumi's face. _She knows my voice,_ Kasumi realized. _I rarely visit, but she remembers my voice._

Her visits to the nursery became more frequent. She helped Yuffie take her first steps, and within a month's time the baby could come toddling to her as soon as she appeared in the doorway. Kasumi would scoop her up into her arms, and she would burst into giggles. When Kasumi wished her good night, she would wail inconsolably, so Kasumi began to let her sleep in the Empress's quarters. Watching her daughter sleep, Kasumi wondered why this little girl seemed to need her more than her brothers did. But then she remembered Kuniyoshi and how she had withheld her love from him, and she began to think that perhaps the gods had given her another chance to be the mother she should have been to Kuniyoshi.

A few times a month, she journeyed out of the city to the waterfall where, not so long ago, she and her young family went swimming to cope with the capital's oppressive heat. At first she almost turned back because the place felt sacred: it was her last happy memory of Farruo. But then she remembered the war that was being fought in his name, and duty his father had entrusted to her. So she practiced summoning Leviathan there. The first time, the Water God burst out of the river with an accompanying deluge of ice-cold water, leaving her shivering for more reason than one. But the second time she called on Leviathan, she remembered that this was not the god against whom, according to legend, the first Master of Magic battled, triumphing only when he gained control of all nature, all creation itself. Leviathan knew that in human hands, his power could be used for wanton destruction. Only a fraction of his power resided in the Materia. _A diminished god,_ thought Kasumi as she gazed at the serpentine dragon,_ for us humans who wouldn't understand how to use his full power for anything but destruction._

Two months after the army's departure, a messenger brought news to the Palace: the Wutainese navy had engaged Shinra's navy not far from Youguo and successfully repelled them. Rina visited Kasumi soon after the news arrived. "How are you doing?" Rina asked. "You must have been worried."

"No, I'm fine," Kasumi answered. "There's so much to do that I hardly have time to worry about anything else."

"You should have told me! My brother made me promise to help you."

"I think he asked you to help only if I needed it," she laughed.

"No, he wanted me to help you every day. I've just been a bit busy myself. My brother thinks about you a lot, you know."

"He takes care of me, as a husband does. I'm sure your husband takes care of you, too."

"Of course. But not in any special way. He takes care of his concubines too." There was no resentment in Rina's voice. "Not all households with concubines are unhappy. Many 'first wives' like me know that their husband needs to have an heir, and if we can't produce one, he should be able to try with other women. And many men, like my husband, want to keep the peace in their household, so they treat their concubines well."

Kasumi understood Rina's explanation, but she couldn't bring herself to agree. "Then what happened to Riko?"

Rina's gaze dropped, and she was silent for a while. "Riko is the kind of person who needs to do what she wants to be happy," she said finally. "Her life hasn't gone the way she wanted it to, at all. So she can't be happy. Especially not when she's married to a man she dislikes." She looked at Kasumi intently. "What do you think? Is marrying for love the only way to be happy?"

"No, of course not. Your brother and I are very happy, even though ours was a marriage of convenience."

"I know you didn't marry for love then, but feelings change. Do you love him now?"

"No," Kasumi answered, surprised. "If I did, I'd miss him all the time, wouldn't I? I would have begged him to stay home."

"I suppose so," said Rina, and changed the subject to Yuffie. Kasumi reported that her daughter was walking and beginning to babble. Rina's own daughter was seven now, and she had cried when she realized what had happened to her cousin Farruo. Kasumi was silent. The preparations for war had kept her from thinking about Farruo's death. She kept telling herself she would think about it some other time, when Godo was there to talk her through it, though in the back of her mind she knew that Godo wouldn't be back for a year.

After that conversation, Rina regularly visited the Palace to help Kasumi with administrative tasks. She never brought up the subject of Kasumi and Godo's marriage again, but Kasumi found herself thinking about her response to the question of whether she loved Godo. There was something wrong with that response. She knew that she didn't love him, and she had meant to say that she would know if she loved him. People in love knew when they were in love, and when they were in love they didn't deny it. Although Kasumi didn't know what exactly was between her and her husband, she did know it wasn't love.

Towards the end of the year, news reached the capital: Shinra's attack on Youguo was a ruse to draw attention away from a parallel attack in Longhua, all the way on the southern tip of the continent. Most of the Wutainese army was relocating to Longhua as quickly as possible.

On the last day of the year Kasumi remembered that Godo had told her about a special ritual the Emperor performed on the first morning of each year. She was to perform it in his absence. She went to the Emperor's quarters to retrieve the small chest he had pointed out to her. As she turned to go, a painting on the wall caught her eye: a portrait of Godo. She meant to turn away; she had seen the portrait before. But now she noticed that the painter had captured something very particular about her husband. It was the expression in his eyes and the ever-so-slight smile, juxtaposed with his strong brows and angular jaw. It was the portrait of a man with a heart that was both fierce and gentle.

Kasumi suddenly realized that her heart was racing. _Why? It's only a portrait. _But her mind filled with memories of her husband: his smile, his kisses and his gentle touch, his affection towards their children, his determination to save the Empire. And the warmth that lay dormant for months roared to life, chasing every other thought and emotion away: _This feeling… Isn't this…_

She tore her gaze from the portrait and hurried out of the room, clutching the chest of supplies. _No. Anything but that._

She did everything she could to keep herself from thinking about it. She threw herself into the administrative work, spent time with Yuffie, visited the imperial cemetery frequently, and practiced summoning Leviathan. She was the Empress of Wutai; she didn't have time to think about her feelings. Neither did she have time for the fever, cough, and chest pain she attributed to a minor illness, which Doctor Yao soon informed her was pneumonia. Even then, Doctor Yao couldn't stop Kasumi from spending her days inside the Emperor's office at S'zheng Hall to keep up with the work that piled up while court sessions were suspended because of her illness. Only when Rina promised to both keep up with the work and keep Yuffie company did Kasumi agree to take the necessary time to recover.

Her recovery finally persuaded her that her mind needed rest just as much as her body. After securing Rina's help for the latter half of the month and saying goodbye to Yuffie, Kasumi and an entourage of five guards and four palanquin bearers set off. Her first thought had been to return to the monastery where she fled in the aftermath of Godo's affair, but not wanting to relive the bittersweet memories there, she decided to visit the famed Jinshan Temple instead.

Nestled in a wooded valley among the peaks of Xiantong Province, Jinshan Temple was where the Emperors retreated when they wanted time and space to meditate. As far as Kasumi knew, Godo had never visited. She wondered why when she descended from the palanquin to find herself in a courtyard surrounded by stately buildings with red timbers, turquoise detailing, and sweeping tiled roofs. Behind the buildings rose the forested slopes of Xiantong's mountains. Kasumi thanked the palanquin bearers and guards, who bowed and departed for an inn in the nearby town of Jin-ge. The resident monks of Jinshan Temple showed her to the Emperors' hermitage and welcomed her, but informed her that although she was the Empress, she could not join in the monks' daily prayers. Kasumi didn't mind: she had come only for the peace and quiet she had found at the nuns' monastery. And she found it: after a few days of fresh air and silence, the emotional and mental turmoil that led to her illness settled into calm.

It was from Jinshan Temple that Godo received a letter bearing his wife's handwriting:

_Your Majesty—_

_As of late, the stress of court is affecting my health, so I decided to spend some time at Jinshan Temple. I think you might enjoy the peace and quiet here, so we should come here together sometime._

_Since you left, we have been extremely busy. Has it really been seven months? It is warm here, so we are starting to put away the silks for the cottons. The little girl is happy because she can run faster in cotton. Every day she runs around the Palace, and her amah struggles to keep up with her._

_I hope you are doing well in Longhua. Remember to send word when you are coming back. Until then,_

_Your Empress_

Godo was more than a little confused. Although the handwriting belonged to his wife, the style was conspicuously missing the eloquence with which she wrote official documents. Was she in a hurry? No, the strokes of each character were impeccable. If anything, she seemed to have written several drafts of the letter before sending it.

He noted the absence of any feeling other than confusion. Seven months ago, shortly after arriving in Youguo, he missed his wife so much that he thought about returning to the capital and ceding command of the army to the new Master of Weapons, Kasumi's brother Shansuke. Knowing that Akiyoshi would sympathize with him, Godo confided in his brother. "Are you sure you're in love with her?" Akiyoshi asked. "You're married to her. It's easy to think any feeling of attachment is love. Give it a few months. Don't write to her. If the feelings goes away, it's not love."

Seven months later Godo had long since stopped missing Kasumi as much as he once did. He was both relieved and sad to realize that he hadn't loved her after all: relieved because it kept his mind focused on the war, and sad because it implied that the happiness they shared wasn't real. But even so, he wrote his response to her letter right away.

A few days after returning home to the capital, Kasumi received Godo's response:

_My Empress—_

_I am glad you were able to take some time away from the Palace. You must be back by now, but please continue to take care of your health._

_I'm sorry I can't say much about where I am or what is happening here. But you should know that I am safe and things have been relatively quiet._

_I am thinking of coming home in the tenth month. I will write to you if that changes. Please give Yuffie a hug from her father._


	18. A Woman and a Man

It was well into winter when the Emperor came home after a year at war. On a clear but frigid day, the soldiers that remained in the capital filled An-xi Square. The Empress, the two-year-old Princess, and the rest of the imperial household received the Emperor at the top of the Palace steps. As Godo approached, eyes fixed on his wife, he felt nothing: his heart didn't race, he felt no warmth within him, he hardly even felt like smiling. _It was just an infatuation._

"Baba? Baba there?"

At the sound of the little voice, Godo bent down to greet his daughter, marveling at how Yuffie had learned to stand, walk, and talk since his departure. Watching him, Kasumi fought to keep her emotions under control. _Yes, I love him. But only because he's my husband. It's a meaningless love, and in any case he doesn't return it._

Godo didn't even get to speak to Kasumi before his entourage escorted him to the Emperor's quarters to help him settle. Ladies-in-waiting brought his dinner to his room, and he belatedly realized that he should have sent someone to tell Kasumi that he wanted to eat together. She was likely eating alone by now, but she would come to his room afterwards. After dinner, he asked for a bottle of sake and two cups and waited patiently. "She'll be here soon," he insisted when Eunuch Jang cautiously ventured that it was getting late. Finally he sent Eunuch Jang to the Empress's quarters. When he returned, Eunuch Jang reported that the Empress had gone to sleep.

When Godo showed up at the morning reading session to find that Kasumi had arrived on time, he pointedly commented that she must have slept well. Picking up on his tone, Kasumi took care to speak to him with patience. She hadn't seen enough of him the previous day to realize that the war must have worn him down. When he left for the dojo, she thought that it would help him vent, and that by evening he would be in a better mood for her to finally speak with him. But when she sat in her room that night, repeatedly answering Lady Usui's offers to help her prepare for bed with the insistence that the Emperor was coming, she resigned herself to sleep with a sinking heart: _He didn't miss me. Maybe he only came home to make sure I wasn't behind on the work, and to conceive another heir._

It was only a matter of time before her resignation turned into resentment. One day after lunch, when Godo rose from the table to go to the dojo without bothering to ask Kasumi what she was doing for the rest of the day, she burst, "Can't you stay for a few minutes? I want to hear about what you did the past year. We haven't talked about anything but work since you came home."

Godo stopped, but didn't sit back down. "Oh, do you have time to talk to me now? How generous of you."

His sarcasm stung. "Just because you're the Emperor and the Master of Battle doesn't mean you can be rude," Kasumi snapped.

"Am I the one being rude?" Godo demanded. "A woman who doesn't greet her husband properly when he comes home is rude!"

"I didn't 'greet you properly'?" Kasumi repeated. "I was at the welcoming ceremony. No one told me I had to do anything else."

"Since when do you only do what you're told to do?" Godo scoffed. "I stayed up late that night waiting for you to visit, and it didn't even occur to you—"

Kasumi stared at him, astonished. "You're angry because I didn't visit you that night? I was waiting for you to visit me!"

"When your husband comes home, you're supposed to visit him, not the other way around!"

"What does that matter?" she cried, exasperated. "I thought you were coming to my room, so I had my ladies-in-waiting bring dinner to my quarters for the both of us. When you didn't come, I thought you were tired. So I went to sleep."

Godo's anger immediately turned to shame. _It was just a misunderstanding, but I assumed the worst. She was happy to see me again, but I've only been angry and rude to her._

On the verge of tears, Kasumi mumbled a goodbye and stood up to leave the room. "Wait," Godo said. For the first time since his arrival, the anger had left his voice. He went to her, his throat tightening with the thought of how he had treated her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "When you didn't visit me, I thought… you didn't miss me at all. But… I missed you."

After a moment's hesitation, Kasumi murmured, "I missed you too," and they embraced in silence, relieved that their misunderstanding was over.

Over dinner that night Godo told Kasumi what it meant to be the Emperor and the Master of Battle: as the Master of Battle, he was the ultimate authority in strategic decisions; as the Emperor, he wasn't allowed to see any action in battle lest he be killed. He told her how thrilling it was to see that Wutainese military technology was well matched with Shinra's, though the casualties were a sobering reminder that war was more than a matter of superior military technology. When he asked Kasumi about her year, he was surprised to hear how much time she was spending with their daughter. "That's more time than we spent with our sons," he commented.

"After Farruo was born, you asked me why I didn't spend more time with him while I recovered from his birth. When I said I wasn't good with children, you said I could learn. I think Yuffie is teaching me." Kasumi smiled as she imagined their daughter. "There's just something about her. She looks more like me, but her smile is yours. She has the cutest giggles. We should spend more time with her now that you're back," she suggested earnestly.

She and Godo spent their scant free time visiting Yuffie in the nursery, visiting their sons' graves, and receiving Godo's sisters and their families at the Palace. Godo was exasperated that Riko couldn't get over her hostility towards Kasumi. Rina was now pregnant with a second child. Godo congratulated her, but her pregnancy was an uncomfortable reminder that he had come home partly to conceive an heir. Awkwardly, he asked Kasumi in private if she had asked the astrologers for auspicious dates. She had, but they had found only one date, and it was towards the end of Godo's stay. In the meantime, Godo found himself noticing how spending time with Yuffie had transformed Kasumi. Formerly reserved in her affection, she hugged the little girl frequently and spoke to her in an animated tone Godo had never heard her use.

It was then that he knew he loved her. He had thought it was over, he had thought it wasn't love, he had thought his feelings for her were bound to fade away because they were the same ones he had for Yoko. Now he came to see that it was what he didn't have with Yoko—a routine, a family, everything that made for an ordinary life—that made it love. He loved Kasumi because she was his wife. And yet he couldn't believe that loving her for being his wife made his love any less real.

The auspicious date fell six days before Godo was scheduled to return to the front. When the ladies-in-waiting admitted Kasumi into the Emperor's room, she was startled at the scent of roses. There was a vase full of red roses on the table behind the bed. As the ladies-in-waiting closed the doors behind her, Kasumi crossed the room and admired the deep crimson petals. "I didn't know roses were in season this time of year," she commented.

"They're not," Godo answered.

It was a brief answer, but Kasumi could tell by his voice that something was wrong. She sat down in front of him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Godo sighed. "We had two sons."

Kasumi's heart began to ache. "We did."

"This seems… wrong," Godo said haltingly. "As if… as if we think we can just… replace them."

Kasumi shook her head. "Of course we can't replace them," she said quietly. "But our people need to know that Wutai still has a future. We can give them hope by having another son. I'm sure Farruo and Kuniyoshi would understand that."

He raised his eyes and gazed at her in grateful silence. When he began to undo his belt, she placed her hands on his to stop him. He looked up, and something burned behind those dark eyes, filling him with anticipation. She leaned forward. Their lips met and opened as the shyness from their long separation turned to hunger. Godo remembered how awkwardly he kissed her on their wedding night, how she had stiffened at the touch of his lips. Now she seemed to bloom—he knew no other way to describe it.

_Tonight, we are not the Emperor and Empress. Tonight, we are just a husband and wife._

She pulled away to help him undress, and he did the same for her. The world seemed to melt away: there was no war on the other side of the country, no ladies-in-waiting outside, none of the comforts of the Palace—only a woman and a man.

Early the next morning, Godo woke up with his arms full of warmth and his nose full of the scent of roses. It dawned on him that he was holding his wife—that for the first time, they had spent the night in each other's arms. He knew he had to begin his day, but now, when his senses were so full of his wife, the thought of leaving was unbearable.

As soon as he shifted, Kasumi stirred, turning in the circle of his embrace to pull him closer. As he listened to her even breathing, Godo wondered if he couldn't stay until the room lightened just enough for him to watch her wake up. He imagined her furrowing her brow, rubbing her eyes, and finally opening her eyes. Maybe they would talk; maybe they would simply get up and help each other prepare for the day…

_No, I have to go. _He pushed the thought away and gently withdrew from Kasumi's embrace, kissing her hands before he released them. He got out of bed and pulled the covers over her shoulders as she nestled into the warm spot he had left. "I love you," he breathed.

He froze, stunned at the words that passed his lips and afraid that she would wake up, but she was fast asleep.

When Kasumi woke up, it was to the smell of her husband. She was still in his room. Gradually, the memories of the previous night returned to her: she was going to leave when he fell asleep, but his arms were around her, he was warm, and with his chest pressed to hers she felt every breath, every heartbeat. When the ladies-in-waiting called through the doors, she ignored them. She pulled the covers over her and Godo and shut her eyes just before the doors opened. She hoped that the ladies-in-waiting wouldn't go so far as to take her away. But they simply put out the lamps and left the room. _Why would they care whether I stayed or left?_ Kasumi thought._ It was always up to me. I always chose to leave… until now._

When Kasumi arrived at the library, Godo looked up from his reading to smile at her. She felt her cheeks beginning to flush and ducked her head as she sat down to begin reading.

After lunch, when Godo began to get up to return to his quarters, Kasumi blurted, "Wait!"

"Yes?"

"I… had a dream last night," she said hesitantly. She fixed her eyes on the table, afraid that if she looked up, she would lose courage. "I… was walking in a forest. It was fall. The trees were like fire, and the leaves were falling down all around me. I saw you walking toward me. You stopped and said…"

Godo remembered what he had whispered to her that morning. His heart began to race. _Why? Why should I be afraid that she heard me? I'm not afraid that she wouldn't say the same, not after everything that's happened between us._

When Kasumi glanced up at Godo, he was looking at the table, the floor, anything but her. He wasn't interested, they were in his office, there were eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting just outside the door… _This isn't the time._

"I don't remember."

Godo's heart sank. "Did you say anything back?"

"No."

He mustered a smile. "If I don't see you later today, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Only after the doors closed behind him did Kasumi permit herself to mouth the words he had said in the dream, as the fiery leaves drifted down around them: _I love you._ In the dream, she had taken a deep breath, prepared to respond that it was only because they were married to each other, because they had made three children, because they had no one else; it wasn't real. But looking into his eyes, she realized: _I don't believe that at all. _She was just about to whisper back, "I love you," when she woke up, and she remembered that she and her husband were the Empress and Emperor of Wutai, whose lives were dedicated to their people, not to each other.

_What if he weren't the Emperor? What if we were just two commoners in Puhua?_

She imagined that she had grown up in Puhua, with her mother teaching her how to dive as soon as she could float. Maybe one day, her mother would point out a young man. He might be from Puhua, or he might be from another village, tall and pale as he was. Either way, he would be different from all the other boys her mother pointed out. He might be handsome and skilled at martial arts, but it would be his heart that drew Kasumi to him. She would end up getting married to this man named Akitake, and they would have as normal a married life as two commoners had. After each day—a long day spent diving and selling her findings to the wealthier residents of Puhua—she would come home to their small hut to find her husband carrying their little daughter while their two sons chased each other around. Life wouldn't be easy, but at least it would be simple.

_But if he were really the man I love, he'd be the best martial artist in the village, and he'd want to use his skills to protect the country. He'd want to move the family to Wutai, where he could teach martial arts or join the Imperial Guard. Life at home would never be enough for him._

At the dojo, Godo found himself thinking of the smell of roses. The streets of Shuxiang were filled with that scent on the sowing festival.

_What if I'd grown up there? What if I met her there?_

He imagined that after winning the wrestling tournament one year, he'd look out at the admiring crowd, and a young woman would catch his eye. He might not find her pretty, but something about her eyes would captivate him. He would soon become entranced with her spirit as much as her eyes. They would marry, and he would support their family with his work as a farmer. Life wouldn't be easy, but at least it would be simple. And the day's hard work would all be worth it when he came home and his children came running to greet him while Kasumi stood smiling in the doorway.

And yet if she were the woman he loved, she wouldn't settle for life at home. She might not have married him. She wouldn't be in the crowd at the sowing festival, hoping to catch some man's eye. She would be at the capital to pursue a career that suited her intelligence.

On the evening before Godo's departure, the Emperor and Empress celebrated their wedding anniversary with a modest banquet. After the banquet, Godo told Kasumi he would visit her later that night to say goodbye. When he came he presented her with a small silk pouch. Inside was a wooden hairpin. At one end was a small carving of a dragon and a phoenix sitting on a branch together. "It's beautiful," Kasumi breathed, marveling at the fine details of the dragon's claws. "But do you really mean for me to wear it? Only commoners wear wooden hairpins, and you hate it when I don't wear my phoenix hairpin."

Godo smiled sheepishly. "I would hate it more if you never wore this one."

He stood and went to the other side of the table to help Kasumi to her feet. "Write to me as soon as you know if you're pregnant," he said, touching her cheek to soften his words. "I'll come back for the baby's birth. Otherwise, I'll see you in a year."

"I'll write to you. Be safe."

The next morning, during the Emperor's farewell ceremony, the bows began: the soldiers and civilians, the imperial household, and finally the Empress. As Kasumi watched her husband and his guards begin the journey south, a single thought rang clear in her mind:

_Even if I love him only because he's my husband, that doesn't make it any less real._


	19. My Only Hope

_Your Majesty—_

_After Doctor Yao's examination, we learned that I am not pregnant. I'm sorry to have to write to you with such disappointing news._

_So I am told that my letter may or not reach you before the New Year. Happy New Year, whenever that will be for you. I have asked Lady Usui to tell the staff to keep the celebrations modest again. This will be the norm, I'm sure, for as long as we are at war, though I don't mind. Extravagant celebrations are hard for me to enjoy, and I know you feel the same way._

_I hope you are doing well. Remember to send word when you are coming home. Until then,_

_Your Empress_

Godo stared at the letter. Again there was something about the style that wasn't quite right; again there was no question that it was her handwriting and that she hadn't written it in a rush. And again he pushed away his misgivings and wrote his response:

_My Empress,_

_Happy New Year, and thank you for your letter. I'm sorry to hear the news. I should be home at the beginning of the twelfth month. Until then, please take care._

Godo bent over and knocked his head on the desk. His letter made it sound like he didn't care, yet he couldn't think of anything other than "I love you" to soften the tone. After a moment's pause, he added one more line:

_I miss you already._

* * *

"Your Majesty, aren't your quarters that way?"

Kasumi made an attempt at a nonchalant smile and turned to Lady Usui. "I need to get something from the Emperor's quarters."

When she entered the Emperor's room and the eunuchs closed the doors behind her, a voice shouted, "Mama!" and the little girl raced towards Kasumi, planting her face into her skirt.

"Yuffie? What are you doing here?" Kasumi bent down. "Where's your amah?"

Yuffie giggled and ignored the question. "See Baba," she declared.

"He's not home, sweetie."

"Baba there!"

Yuffie pointed to the portrait that hung on the wall. "You're right." Kasumi picked the little girl up and sat her on her hip. "So you came to see Baba? Then that makes two of us."

_I miss you already. _Four months after receiving his letter, Kasumi still read it every day. Until now she had resisted inventing an excuse to go to his room and gaze at the portrait to remind herself what he looked like. She suddenly wondered if he thought of her, and how often.

On a hot, humid day in Longhua, while Godo was in a meeting with the rest of the Wusheng, a messenger presented him with a narrow wooden tube. "From the Palace, Your Majesty," the messenger explained with a bow.

With difficulty Godo fought the urge to rush through the rest of the meeting. Once it was over, he returned to his tent and opened the tube. First he read the letter:

_Your Majesty—_

_At this moment, I am writing to you from the summer palace. It's quiet here without you training with the Imperial Guards in the courtyard—and it would be even quieter if Yuffie weren't so lively._

_She gives her caretakers a hard time. Her favorite activity is hiding in the bushes around the lake. I'll be searching for her frantically and praying she hasn't fallen into the lake. Then she'll jump out from behind me and giggle as if she's been very clever. Every time she does that, I find myself wondering if you did the same thing when you were her age._

_I hope you are doing well in Longhua. Remember to send word before you return home. Until then,_

_Your Empress_

_P.S. This letter comes with a gift._

Godo unrolled the second, heavier paper to find a small portrait of his wife. The way her lips just slightly curled up in a smile, the determination in her dark, expressive eyes—the painter had captured it all. And was that the wooden hairpin she was wearing?

"Your Majesty!"

Godo managed to roll up the portrait just in time to hide it from Chekhov. "We've just received the latest report from the front."

"Give Us a moment." When Chekhov bowed and left, Godo slipped the portrait and the letter back into their container and left his tent to listen to the report.

That night he wrote his response:

_My Empress—_

_I hope being at the summer palace has given you some time to breathe. I'm glad that you can spend time with our daughter. I can't remember if I used to do what you say Yuffie has been doing. You should ask Rina. I'm sure she will tell you all kinds of stories—including the ones I'm too embarrassed to tell you._

_Thank you for the painting. When I come home, tell me who painted it, and I will reward him._

* * *

The Emperor returned to the capital to freezing rain. When he exited the palanquin at the Meridian Gate, a eunuch held a large umbrella over his head. Godo walked carefully across the slick, icy pavement to the center of An-xi Square, received the guards' greeting, and turned to the Palace. There stood the Empress and the rest of the imperial household—except for Yuffie, Godo noticed. "I didn't want her standing out in this rain," Kasumi explained when he ascended the steps to meet her.

"I'll go visit her. Meet me in my room for dinner," Godo responded.

It was a strange way to greet each other, but it made sure their misunderstanding didn't happen again. After visiting Yuffie, Godo went to his room to find the table set and Kasumi waiting for him. "How was your visit?" Kasumi asked as they ate.

"I couldn't believe how much she was saying." Godo shook his head in awe. "We had a real conversation. And she still recognizes me."

"Of course she does. Were you worried she wouldn't?"

"I'm gone most of the year."

Kasumi laughed. "Even if she didn't recognize you, she wouldn't be shy. She talks to everyone, even the eunuchs and ladies-in-waiting. Only…" She winced. "If any of them are wearing or holding anything shiny, she'll grab it. I have to wear my wooden hairpin around her now because she keeps grabbing my other one."

Godo knew he shouldn't laugh, but he did. When Kasumi asked, he gave her a brief summary of what was happening on the front. Immediately after finishing, he pulled a small cylindrical container out of his sash and placed it on the table. Kasumi opened it to find her portrait inside. "Why did you bring it back?" she asked, confused.

"It'll be safer here."

"What do I have to do for you to keep it? Should I have the artist paint a bad portrait of me? Should I paint it? Maybe Yuffie should paint it?"

Godo hadn't wanted to explain himself, but she looked so hurt that he relented. "When I come home and see you again, after all this time…" His face was turning red. He stammered, "My heart feels lighter. I want to feel like that every time I come home and see you."

"That's silly," Kasumi almost retorted, but the look on his face told her he meant it. So instead she pushed the cylinder back across the table and insisted, "Keep it. If it gets ruined, I'll ask the artist to paint another one."

As the conversation began to wind down, Lady Usui called through the doors, "Your Majesty, it's getting late. We should return to your quarters for you to prepare to go to sleep."

Godo stood and helped Kasumi to her feet. "Good night."

She turned to go, but halfway to the door, she whirled around and burst, "Since… since you're home… can I sleep here every night?"

"Every night?" Godo repeated, his face turning bright red. "We want to have a child, but we shouldn't overdo it—"

"That's not what I was talking about!" Kasumi exclaimed in dismay. "I meant sleeping. Just sleeping."

"You know the rules," Godo mumbled.

"I have my own room, you have yours, and we can't spend the night together because you won't want to get up in the morning. It's ridiculous," Kasumi said, surprising herself, but she continued: "We spend an entire year apart, it's lonely here without you, and can't we forget the rules just for now?"

She was just as astonished at her own words as Godo was. When he didn't respond, she muttered, "Never mind," and turned to leave.

"Of course you can sleep here," he blurted. "If that's what you want."

Lady Usui still took Kasumi to another room to change. If she had any opinion about her mistress spending the night in the Emperor's quarters, she said nothing, only wishing Kasumi good night before she returned to the Emperor's room. Eunuch Jang was there to put out the lamps, as was his duty when the Emperor lay down to sleep. Kasumi told Eunuch Jang that she would put out the lamps. After he left, Godo put out the lamps, and they lay down side by side on the bedding. To Godo's annoyance, Kasumi fell asleep almost immediately.

He was just starting to drift off to sleep when a scream jolted him awake. He shot upright, pulling a knife from underneath his pillow. Just outside the doors, Eunuch Jang was protesting, "You can't bring her here, she'll wake up His Majesty!"

"I don't care, I can't take her anymore!"

The doors burst open and Yuffie's amah came in with the shrieking child in her arms. "Your Majesty, she's been like this for hours," the amah wailed. "She won't sleep without Her Majesty."

Godo turned to Kasumi and was amazed to find that she was still asleep. He gently shook her awake. "My Empress. Yuffie's here." While she stirred, Godo brought the howling girl to her mother. Without even opening her eyes, Kasumi laid the little girl by her side and went back to sleep. The amah left, Yuffie fell asleep, and Godo was left wondering if the entire episode was a nightly routine. When he woke the next morning, he watched his wife and his daughter asleep beside him and wondered, _Is this how a normal family sleeps if all they have is a one-room hut?_ He imagined Farruo and Kuniyoshi there. Farruo would be ten years old; Kuniyoshi would be eight.

_Two sons and a daughter, and the daughter is the only one who survives._ The thought haunted Godo over the next few days, darkening his mood. Ten days after his return, it still lingered: when he and Kasumi visited Yuffie's quarters, mainly to tell Yuffie's amah that Yuffie had to stay in her own room on this particular night, he could tell Kasumi was watching him closely as he talked to Yuffie. But Kasumi saved her words until after their lovemaking had swept away all inhibitions and they lay in each other's arms in contented silence. Finally she took a deep breath and spoke. The low music of her voice was thrilling after they made love, and it took Godo a moment for the words to sink in:

"I want to talk to you about Yuffie."

"What about her?" he asked, a little stiffly.

"She loves you," Kasumi said softly. "Do you know that? She's always so happy to see you. But when you smile at her, you don't mean it. Why?"

Godo sighed. "It's not that I don't mean it. It's just…"

"What?"

"Looking at her reminds me of Farruo," he said. "I know it's unfair. I know it's not her fault. But I can't help it when I look at her and feel this…" He struggled to find the words to describe it.

Kasumi raised herself up just enough to look him in the eye. "You may look at her and feel despair," Kasumi said. "But I look at her and I feel hope."

"Hope?" Godo repeated incredulously. "For what?"

"That she will be Empress someday."

He was speechless as Kasumi continued, "You married the Empire's first female scholar-official in hundreds of years, and you are the strongest Emperor the Empire has seen since the Tenth Kisaragi Emperor. Is it so hard to believe that our daughter could be the Empress of Wutai?"

He hesitated, but she saw that his expression had softened. Satisfied, she lay back down. He began to stroke her shoulder. "She will be my heir if we don't have another son," he said, and she stiffened again. He turned to his side to look her in the eye. "Yuffie gives you hope, but my only hope is you," he said quietly. "Knowing the Empire is safe in your hands gives me the will to keep fighting. Do you know that?"

Kasumi looked at him in silence, then pulled her yukata around her and sat up. "What's wrong?" Godo asked.

"I'm putting the lamps out."

While she began to put out the lamps on one side of the room, Godo quickly tied his own yukata and went to the other side of the room to put out the rest of the lamps. He knew that when he spoke from the heart, Kasumi felt she had to respond, but didn't always know how. _But I don't always need you to respond,_ he thought._ If you don't know what to say, stay here, in my arms. That's enough for me._

When they returned to bed, Kasumi still didn't know what to say. Godo seemed to believe there was nothing between them and that everything was perfect when he was home and they were together. But between them were months of separation, a war, and now their daughter. _Even our own daughter._ Even so, she reached out and found his hand, and they clung to each other in the darkness. _Because I am his wife and he is my husband, and we share one life._

For the remainder of Godo's stay, Yuffie continued to spend some nights with her parents, some nights in her own room. Each night Kasumi watched her husband's face soften as he looked at their daughter, and each night she let herself hope that he was beginning to understand her.

On the night before Godo's departure, as usual, Kasumi went to the Emperor's quarters to wait for Godo while he finished his evening prayer. When he returned, she sent a lady-in-waiting to bring tea. As they drank, they told each other about their afternoons. Then they talked about the court session, about how Yuffie would begin her training at the dojo soon, about how some discipline would help focus her wild energy—anything to keep them from thinking about tomorrow. When they finally lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Kasumi asked, "Do you remember how to waltz?"

Since their daytime clothes were too bulky, they changed into the white yukatas they wore to sleep. It took a moment for them to remember where to place their hands: her right and his left pressed together, her left behind his shoulder, his behind her back. They walked through the each of the six steps in the sequence before counting off and trying to string them together in a waltz around the room. They were just beginning to remember the pace when Godo sent Kasumi into a free spin—only to abruptly pull her back into his arms to keep her from spinning into the cabinet. They both burst into laughter, giddy from the waltz and from pride at how much they managed to remember. "Let's try again tomorrow," Kasumi suggested.

The words left her before she remembered that Godo was leaving the next morning. He looked back at her in despondent silence, remembering the night Jordan taught them how to dance: the warmth of the crowded room, the stares all around them, the long moment they gazed into each other's eyes. _Back then we had everything before us. Farruo was still alive. We could spend every day together. It was easy to imagine what the next thirty, years would look like. _Now, looking into Kasumi's eyes, Godo was forced to confront the reality that they spent most of the year apart, two of their three children were dead, it was entirely possible that he might die in the war, and even if he didn't, he didn't know how much longer the war would go on.

As if she knew what he was thinking about, Kasumi told him his ancestors would be proud, he was doing a noble thing by defending the people of Wutai, he shouldn't worry about her—yet it was not in her words but in the sound of her low, soft murmur that Godo found his comfort. Only when they had put out the lamps and he lay fast asleep in her arms did she dare to whisper, "Don't go."

Godo woke up when Lady Usui arrived to take the Empress back to her quarters and prepare her for the departure ceremony. Godo gently shook Kasumi. "Wake up, my Empress," he murmured. "It's time for you to go."

Kasumi mumbled something and clung to the pillow. Godo carefully prised her arms from the pillow and helped her sit up, but she began to lie back down. He helped her stand up. She stumbled and clung to him, eyes still closed. He pushed her hair away from her face and straightened her yukata, all the while repeating his words and adding, "I want to say goodbye before Lady Usui takes you away."

He was hoping for a kiss before they had to spend the next year apart, but her half-asleep state she was in no shape for kisses. So instead Godo gave her a quick hug, walked her to the doors, and handed her to Lady Usui. He had just enough time to say, "Goodbye," before the doors slid shut.

Later that morning, Kasumi stood at the top of the Palace steps with the rest of the imperial household, watching the Emperor process from the Pagoda to the center of the square. The ritual bows to the Emperor began: the soldiers, the imperial household, and finally the Empress. When Kasumi rose from her bow, Godo performed a ritual bow to his wife, ignoring the stares and gasps of astonishment around him. _For keeping the Empire safe while I'm gone,_ he thought, fixing his eyes on the distant figure on the steps. _And for reminding me how to be the father I should be._

He turned towards the Meridian Gate. He had only taken a few steps towards when a voice shouted, "Baba!" When he turned around, the little girl had broken free of her amah's hold and was racing across the square, past the ranks of soldiers, and into her father's arms. Kasumi went after the little girl herself. As Godo waited for her to arrive, he told Yuffie to be good to her mother and her amah, and to train well when she began her martial arts training in a month's time. "You are the Emperor's daughter," he told her. "Maybe one day you will be my heir, but whether you become Empress Regnant or remain the Princess of Wutai, you have much to live up to."

Kasumi arrived. As he gave Yuffie back to her, Godo murmured, "You're beautiful."

He knew it was the wrong time and the wrong place, but he couldn't help it: dressed in dark crimson robes, with the phoenix hairpin gleaming against her black hair, and with their daughter in her arms, she was beautiful. The whisper of a smile that flitted across her face was worth it. "Be safe," she said softly. "We'll be waiting."

"Bye, Baba!" the little girl said.

Godo smiled. "I'll be home again before you know it."

With difficulty, he turned his gaze to the Meridian Gate and began the long march south.


	20. The Inevitable Consequence of Love

Doctor Yao's examination revealed that Kasumi was not pregnant. Kasumi wrote to Godo with the news. Perhaps to ease their disappointment, perhaps to soften the tone of his letter, he sent her a poem about thinking of her as he watched the cherry blossoms at Longhua's famous lake. Her heart overflowing with emotion, Kasumi pressed the letter to her chest, as if by doing so she could embrace its writer from afar—until her young daughter, playing in a corner of the room, asked, "Mama, what are you doing?"

The summer heat arrived early that year. When Yuffie complained about the heat, Kasumi took her along on her trips to the waterfall. There she summoned Leviathan and introduced her daughter to the Water God. Far from being terrified, the little girl seemed ready to stand her ground with three months of martial arts training under her belt. After Kasumi dismissed Leviathan, she and Yuffie plunged into the river for a swim. The little girl had so much fun that Kasumi had to drag her out of the river, kicking and screaming, to return to the Palace.

One afternoon she received a letter from the Emperor. That evening, her heart fluttering, she opened the letter, but her hopes for a warm greeting were disappointed. Godo wrote that the elder of Shuxiang, where most of the firearms were being manufactured, reported a severe cut in funds sent to the town. Godo wanted Kasumi to investigate and report her findings.

The next day Kasumi arranged a private meeting with the administrator of the ministry of the treasury, who showed her that none of the records for Shuxiang showed a decrease in funds since the war began. Next Kasumi went to the dojo to enlist the help of the ninja who hadn't gone to the West or to the front in Longhua. She instructed them to scout the city for rumors of scholar-officials gathering in secret. It didn't take long before they arrived with reports of scholar-officials meeting at different kisaeng houses around the city. Consistent in all the reports was the fact that the scholar-officials always brought opium with them, and in each neighborhood they frequented, opium dens appeared shortly afterwards. The kisaengs asserted that the officials never discussed any treasonous plots against the Emperor and Empress—but they did mention the patronage of the Princess Li-zi.

When summoned to the throne hall, Riko looked around at the empty room and remarked, "The entire Palace knows that you and I are not friends. But you made it official by receiving me in the throne room like a stranger, and not in the Empress's quarters like a friend."

"Our personal feud has nothing to do with the reason I have summoned you here instead of to my quarters," Kasumi said evenly. "If any name other than yours had been mentioned in connection to reports of opium use among the scholar-officials, I would have summoned that person to the throne room too. Now, do you have anything to say about your reported involvement in opium dealing among the scholar-officials?"

"Why would you trust the word of some opium addicts? You're the Empress of Wutai—don't you have better things to do than investigate stupid rumors?"

"If you want to deny your involvement, all you have to do is tell me, and the investigation will continue on the assumption that you are not a primary suspect. You are my husband's sister, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I have nothing to do with those traitors. They're probably using my name as a code for someone else." Riko crossed her arms. "If I were you, I'd focus on something other than the scholar-officials' bad behavior. Akiyoshi recently wrote me to ask if he should tell you that your husband's been sleeping with one of the soldiers. I thought you should know, since you seem to think my brother will be faithful to you just because you're his only wife."

In her struggle to keep her emotions under control, it took Kasumi a moment to respond, "Thank you for your concern, Princess." But it was too little, too late: with a smirk, Riko sauntered out of the throne room.

Kasumi ordered the arrests of all officials the kisaengs named and had them individually questioned. While she waited for the results, her thoughts were consumed with Riko's claims of Godo's infidelity. Over and over she told herself that the entire premise was ridiculous: Akiyoshi would never write to Riko about Godo's private life, not when the whole family knew how much Riko hated Kasumi—_but Akisada had nothing to gain by telling me about my husband's affair, and he was telling the truth._ Worse still, Kasumi hadn't detected any change in Godo's behavior when he began his affair with Lady Mutsuki, so she couldn't reason that the fact that he let her spend every night in his room meant he wasn't cheating on her.

_Back then my feelings weren't so strong that I couldn't leave him. What about now? Now that I love him, now that we've had another son and a daughter I love very much? Could I stop loving him? What if I can't? Is heartbreak is the inevitable consequence of love? The moment I gave my heart to him, did I also give him the power to break it?_

The investigators returned with the scholar-officials' testimonies. Some did not say whether the Princess Li-zi was involved. The testimonies of those who did assert her involvement matched. The head investigator hesitantly added that some of the scholar-officials justified their conduct out of belief that the Emperor and Empress were engaging in illicit activities of their own. When asked why they believed this, the scholar-officials responded that they had heard rumors of the Empress spending every night with the Emperor when he returned to the capital. Maybe it was just debauchery, the scholar-officials said, but if not then the Emperor and Empress must be up to some criminal activity.

With a heavy heart, Kasumi ordered Riko's arrest and placed her husband, his concubines, and their children under house arrest. After Riko's arrest, Kasumi went to the Palace prison to visit her. Riko rolled her eyes when Kasumi arrived. "Are you here to scold me?" Riko spat.

"Riko, you are a Princess of Wutai, an Emperor's daughter, my sister-in-law. How could you do this?"

"How?" Riko laughed. "It was easy. What has Wutai done for me? Nothing. It offered me wings, training me to be a warrior just like my brothers. Then it clipped those wings. Married me to a man I didn't love, let him sleep with other women when I didn't have a son, forced me to adopt his bastard son."

"So you got involved in the opium trade just because your husband took concubines?"

Riko scoffed. "Of course not! That bastard isn't worth getting revenge on."

"Then why?"

"Take a guess. You're supposed to be smart."

"A foreigner. He gave you opium and a chance to sell your country."

Riko smirked. "Not quite. When he was here with Shinra, it wasn't about the opium. It was about the sex. I'd tell you all about it, but you wouldn't understand. Anyway, he left with the rest of Shinra, and I didn't hear a word from him until last year. He wrote to me saying he was desperate for me, that he'd do anything to bring me to the West to be with him—if I could just help him with a little smuggling."

Kasumi stared at her. "And you fell for that?"

"Do I look stupid to you? I knew right away that his superiors had offered him a promotion if he could help bring Wutai down from the inside."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because everything you and my brother are fighting for, all your noble ideas and your supposed concern for the people of Wutai, means absolutely nothing. The only thing worth doing in life is having fun. And bringing down an Empire is a lot of fun."

Speechless and disgusted, Kasumi turned away. Riko hollered after her, "You should've seen the look on your face when I told you my brother was sleeping around. In the end, even a smart-ass like you can fall for someone!"

The guards closed the door behind Kasumi before she could hear the rest.

Over the next few days, she and the remaining scholar-officials identified and interviewed candidates to fill the vacant spots in the imperial court. Not long after the vacancies were filled, the investigators reported rumors that immediately after Riko's arrest, another high-ranking noble had become the primary sponsor of the illegal opium trade. Riko and her accomplices were only one branch of what must be a vast smuggling operation across the Empire. Maybe it had survived the Prince Gao-tsu's death all those years ago. Maybe the capital was only the last stronghold against the smugglers. Whatever the case, one thing remained certain: it had happened under Kasumi's watch, while she was so preoccupied with her feelings for her husband that the scholar-officials had used them against her. The thought weighed heavily on her mind as she sat down for dinner alone, barely noticing how bitter the dumplings were and how drowsy she was when Lady Usui helped her get ready for bed.

She opened her eyes. Doctor Yao… was sitting by her side? Saying something? Kasumi tried to speak, tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't respond. And then she fell back into darkness.

"Kasumi. Kasumi, wake up."

She opened her eyes, and her husband was sitting at her side. With great effort, she smiled. "Welcome back," she said. The words emerged sluggish and heavy. "What's wrong… with me? Am I… dying?"

"Please don't talk about dying," Godo said softly. "You wouldn't leave me alone, would you?"

"No… of course not."

"Then rest well, and I'll see you again when I return."

Kasumi frowned. "Are you… leaving already?"

"I'm not here." Godo smiled sadly. "Next time we see each other, it won't be a dream."

"Wait!" Kasumi flung herself upright, arms reaching out to hold him, but instead she found herself clutching her chest and gasping. Doctor Yao barked out an order to bring the Empress water. Kasumi turned to her, gasping, "His Majesty… Where is he?"

"He's not here, Your Majesty."

"He was… just here," she insisted. "I saw him… I heard him…"

Doctor Yao, clearly believing that the Empress was hallucinating, said nothing and brought the water for Kasumi to drink. Kasumi drank as if she hadn't tasted water for days, and then fell back onto her bed and into deep sleep.

The letter reached Godo while he was in Shuxiang. He and the Master of Weapons, Kasumi's brother Shansuke, were inside the elder's house, assuring the elder that the issue of funding had been resolved. When the letter arrived, Godo excused himself from the table and went outside to read it.

_Your Majesty—_

_The Empress has been poisoned with opium. She was on the brink of death, but in the end she recovered. By the time you receive this letter, she should be fully recovered. All those suspected of involvement in her poisoning have been arrested and will be questioned._

_Doctor Yao_

Godo read the letter over and over, hands shaking. Finally he stumbled back inside the elder's house. "Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" Shansuke asked.

"No. I—We have to go back to the capital. Someone has poisoned my—Our wife," Godo said, his voice trembling with anguish. "Someone tried to kill her. She was on her deathbed, and I wasn't there."

"How is she now?"

"The letter says she's fully recovered by now, but I'm going back to the capital anyway."

"Your Majesty, I am worried about my sister, too, but we are at war," Shansuke said emphatically. "You are the Emperor and the Master of Battle. We can't afford for you to leave, not when the situation in Longhua is critical. If my sister were still recovering, that would be a different story. But we need you here now."

"But… she was dying, and I wasn't there to take care of her." Godo shook his head vigorously. "I have to see her. I have to make sure she's really all right."

Shansuke bowed. "Your Majesty, I have no power to keep you from doing as you wish. But as a soldier under your command I beg you to reconsider. By the time you return to the capital, my sister will have been well for a week. But at this time, the situation in Longhua could change any day."

Godo clenched his fists, turned to the elder, and requested paper and a pen. He sat down to write:

_My dear Empress—_

_I received the news of your poisoning just before I sat down to write this letter. I was ready to return home that instant, but the situation is tense in Longhua and I am not free to leave. _

_There are no words for how ashamed I am to hear that my sister has betrayed our country. I will speak to her myself when I come back. In the meantime, keep her under close watch. I'm sure you already are._

_I can only imagine how you must feel, having to deal with all of this alone. But don't let this spoil the Seventh Night for you. Please rest and enjoy the festivities as if I were there with you. Forget about the war for a day. I will be thinking of you on that day too._

_I hope to come home at the end of the year. Until then, please take care of yourself. Please tell Yuffie that her father misses her._

"Your Majesty, are you all right?"

Kasumi struggled to keep her voice level. "Please leave me."

After Lady Usui left, Kasumi buried her face in her hands and began to cry, stifling her sobs. If her husband had been there with her while the interrogations took place, they would have given each other strength when one of them was discouraged. If he had been with her when she was poisoned, he would have nursed her back to health himself. Alone, she hid her stress, exhaustion, and discouragement behind an impassive mask. She needed him with her.

She grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and quickly wrote:

_Your Majesty—_

_The last few weeks have been torture. Is there any way you can come home earlier? It's been unbearable without you. Please come home as soon as possible._

She stopped abruptly and imagined him reading the letter. _He will come back if I ask him to. And when he's home, he won't be able to stop thinking about the soldiers he left behind. Because that's the man I married._

She tore her hastily written letter apart and wrote a new one.

_Your Majesty—_

_All is well here despite the recent events. I hope you won't worry about us too much—I know you have enough to think about on the battlefront._

_Since the Palace is still shaken by the recent events, we won't go to the summer palace this year. However, I will make sure to enjoy Seventh Night. I will think of you when the Weaver and the Herder sing of their reunion. That part of the opera speaks to me a little more each year. Every time I imagine your next homecoming, I think of the Seventh Night legend._

_I hope you are doing well. Remember to send word when you are about to come home. Until then,_

_Your Empress_


	21. For the Glory of Wutai

Kasumi was scheduled to visit Shuxiang for the year's undercover inspection. She chose to go in the twelfth month. By then it would be time for Godo to return to the capital. He was to meet Kasumi in Pusa Ding, and then the two would travel back to the capital together. The timing was perfect. Kasumi was looking forward to spending the extra ten days with Godo—or rather, since they would be traveling most of the time, she was looking forward to the extra ten nights.

She arrived in Shuxiang in the evening and settled into a modest inn with her small retinue of guards and ladies-in-waiting. She spent the first few days visiting the smaller villages a few hours' journey from Shuxiang and noted that they were doing considerably better than similar villages in more remote regions of the Empire, no doubt due to Shuxiang's manufacturing sector. Finally she walked around Shuxiang itself. The town had grown denser since her first visit with Godo. When she arrived at the square in front of the elder's house, nothing had changed. She remembered when she and Godo arrived at this very spot and the elder urged his people to rise, calling Godo "the Prince who was one of us." The following night she had asked him to tell her about his service years, and he told her about the sowing festival. _The festival that made him who he is today,_ she thought, smiling to herself. _And the town where he became a man for his people, the man I love._

"Your Majesty!"

Kasumi returned to the present to find the elder, his hair now white, hurrying towards her from the steps of his house. He bowed, his face glowing with a warm smile. "How did you recognize me?" Kasumi asked.

The elder gestured to her dress. "Your ao dai gives you away, Your Majesty."

Kasumi laughed. "I can't be the only one in the Empire who wears ao dai."

"Not too long ago His Majesty showed me a portrait he received from you. The resemblance is remarkable. But what brings you here unannounced?"

"The annual provincial inspection. I'm supposed to be undercover," she said archly.

"Oh, of course. But you are a family friend, Your Majesty. Please let me introduce the newest members of our family."

The elder reemerged from his house with his daughter-in-law and not two but four granddaughters in tow. The two oldest girls, whom Kasumi had met on her first visit to Shuxiang, were now teenagers. The third was ten years old and the fourth five. The elder's daughter-in-law was pregnant with a fifth. "We keep saying this one must be a boy," the elder joked.

"Where is your son?" Kasumi asked.

"He works in the factory." The elder smiled proudly. "I'm proud of him, and I'm honored that Your Majesties decided to make this town the center of the Empire's manufacturing."

"His Majesty trusts you as he would his own father, and Shuxiang means the world to him. He's happy to give back to the town that taught him so much."

The ever-hospitable elder insisted that they continue their conversation inside his house. Kasumi was just getting to know the four awestruck girls when a man raced inside the house, his face pale with fear. "S-sir, there's a p-plane flying overhead. W-we think it's the enemy."

Kasumi and the elder hurried outside. The low drone filling the air turned into a deafening roar as a gray plane swept over the town, dropping papers in its wake. Kasumi and the elder bent down to pick up the fallen papers. They all read, in crude Wutainese:

_Fire will fall from the sky. Escape and live. Ten minutes._

"Shinra's discovered the factories," Kasumi realized. "They're giving us ten minutes to evacuate before they drop bombs on the town."

"Ten minutes?" the elder repeated hollowly.

"Father!" A man dressed in a stained uniform came running towards the elder, clutching one of the papers in his hand. Kasumi recognized him as Kyu-won, the elder's son.

She turned to the elder's daughter-in-law. "Take your father-in-law and your daughters and get as far away as possible from the factories. Your husband and I will lead the evacuation."

The woman bowed, briefly squeezed her husband's hand, and hurried back to the house to fetch her daughters. "Wait just a moment," Kyu-won snapped at Kasumi. "Who are you to order my wife around like that?"

"The Empress of Wutai," she said impatiently. "Now help me evacuate the village. You take the north side. I'll take the south."

"What about the factories?"

"They're lost," she answered flatly. "We can't save them. Now go!"

Kyu-won scowled and ran off. Kasumi began a sweep of the southern side of the town, stopping into every house to make sure everyone knew of the evacuation. She wasn't even halfway through her part of the town when the plane tore across the sky with more papers in its wake: _Five minutes._

_I need to leave now if I want to live. _Kasumi shook her head and stared despairingly at the havoc around her. They all needed time. A man in the factory uniform grabbed every passing villager to ask if they had seen his wife and children. A young man wrenched himself out of his father's grasp in search of his fiancee. A young girl screamed that she wasn't going to leave all her belongings behind. A teenaged boy struggled with the weight of his limping grandfather. A lone, elderly woman hobbled through the streets, jostled on all sides. They all needed time, and nothing could help them except for a Master of Magic like her late father, who could harness the power of all creation to do anything he wished. If Godo were here, he would use feng shui dao to call down lightning from the clear sky and strike the planes down. Kasumi had never been a feng shui warrior.

_But I can summon Leviathan._

Her hand flew to the light armored gloves tucked into a pocket of her ao dai. Nestled into the armor was the Leviathan Materia. Godo had given it to her, saying that if Shinra attacked the capital, she would be the one to save it. After nearly four years of practicing, Kasumi no longer believed that the Leviathan that this Materia summoned was powerful enough to save the capital, or even Shuxiang. _But I have to try._

She fought her away against the tide of the panicking crowd and returned to the square in front of the elder's house. The plane was circling, circling, circling. Three more planes came to join it. It was too late for her to escape now.

She pulled her fighting gloves on, clasped her hands, and closed her eyes in concentration.

_Once upon a time I wouldn't have given my life for anything. That was before I met you. You, who came to Puhua, confronted your uncle, and risked your life for the families of lowly divers you'd never met, all based on the word of a scholar-official you didn't have to trust. You, who married me to help you save the Empire. You, who ended your relationship with the woman you loved because you wanted to be an example to your people. If you were here, you wouldn't think twice: you would risk anything to save your people. So will I._

She felt the ground trembling beneath her. She opened her eyes just in time to see the four planes empty their load. She was just about to finish the summons—

Kasumi opened her eyes to fiery pain in her right cheek. There was a heavy weight on her: a man sprawled across her chest. Panic gave her the burst of strength she needed to yank her legs free and roll away, wincing when her bruised ribs protested. When the pain subsided, she crawled over to examine the man's face. It bled from numerous scratches, as if he had been dragged across the ground, but beneath the blood she recognized his features. The breath seemed to vanish from her body. She pushed her husband onto his back and cradled his head against her chest. "Wake up, Your Majesty," she pleaded. "Wake up."

At the sound of a groan, she pulled away. Godo's eyes flew open. He wrenched himself out of her arms and bowed his head to hide his face. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" For the first time, Kasumi looked around. All around them were fallen tree trunks. They were on a ridge—just above the forested slopes of Shuxiang, Kasumi realized. But when she stood up and stumbled to the edge to look down at the town, all she saw was black smoke and bright flames.

She whirled around to confront Godo. "I saw the planes from Pusa Ding," he said. "I told myself you'd be fine, but I couldn't believe it. I used feng shui dao to travel here at the speed of lightning and save you."

"I was summoning Leviathan," Kasumi shouted, her voice shaking. "I was going to save Shuxiang! Why did you stop me?"

"I couldn't let you die."

Godo was looking up at her with eyes that pleaded for her understanding, his violet eyes, an Emperor's eyes. _An Emperor who let hundreds of his people die._ Kasumi turned away to hide her face. _What else was he supposed to do?_ He should have trusted her. _And if the plan didn't work? If I had finished the summons too late in the first place, if Leviathan wasn't strong enough to stop the bombs?_ _He had an instant to make a decision. And he chose me._

By sunset the survivors had gathered on a grassy slope that escaped the bombing and lay out of the smoke's path. Hundreds of people sat watching the sea of flames that had once been Shuxiang. Many sobbed. Others were too stunned to do so. The wounded gathered around a clear-running creek to nurse their wounds. Medics from the reserves in Pusa Ding walked among them to treat the wounded and close the eyes of those who had already passed.

Kasumi and Godo sat by the creek. At first Kasumi kept her distance from Godo as he applied pressure to the wounds on his face, but soon she took over the task. She hadn't spoken to him since their brief conversation on the ridge, and she continued to hold her silence as she tended his wounds. When he glanced at her, she avoided eye contact.

Finally a medic sat down to treat Godo. Suddenly seeing the crest on his robes, she fell into a kowtow, crying, "Your Majesty! Forgive me—I didn't know you were here!"

Heads turned. Kasumi grabbed the medic's bottle of medicine, applied it to the scratches on Godo's face, and pulled him to his feet, whispering, "We have to go now," but it was too late: when she turned around, the stone-faced elder of Shuxiang was standing behind her.

"Your Majesty, I didn't know you were here." The joviality that animated the elder's voice was flat and lifeless now.

"I was waiting for the Empress in Pusa Ding. I saw the planes coming in this direction and used feng shui dao to travel here in time to rescue the Empress."

"The survivors who were in the square at the time of the bombing told me what they saw. Her Majesty was just beginning to cast a spell when she was suddenly spirited away."

"Yes. That was my doing."

"She was trying to buy the townspeople time," the elder said, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. "My son was still leading the evacuation. He only needed a few more minutes to escape. My daughter-in-law had just found him when the bombs fell. The explosion tore her womb open."

"I am sorry."

"They were only two of the hundreds that were still in the town. They only needed a few more minutes. And you, who rule to serve your subjects—you, who became a man in Shuxiang!—_you_ are responsible for this!"

The elder thrust his hand at the sea of flames. Godo was silent.

"I thought you were Leviathan's blessing on Shuxiang. I thought I would have followed you onto the battlefield to die for you if it were not for my age. But now I know that the Emperor thinks only of himself. I will never follow such an Emperor."

Kasumi stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Consider His Majesty's options. We didn't know if the spell would work. If it didn't—"

"Leviathan could have saved Shuxiang!" the elder roared.

"Let me atone for my mistake," Godo said quietly. "Instead of returning to the capital, I will stay here to make sure the people of Shuxiang are taken care of."

"There's no need. We'll all be better off if you make sure Her Majesty returns to the capital safely." The elder turned to Kasumi, and she was taken aback at the grief in his eyes. "Congratulations, Your Majesty," he said evenly. "You have fought the people of Wutai for the heart of the Emperor and won."

He stalked away. Kasumi and Godo gathered the guards and ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied the Empress on the journey south and set off towards Pusa Ding. Every single one of the inns along the way was overcrowded with refugees from Shuxiang. Dawn wasn't far off when they arrived at Pusa Ding to wash up and rest until mid-morning.

On the ten-day journey back to the capital Kasumi had nothing to say to Godo. She avoided his eyes, and while their palanquin bearers took a break, she walked off to be alone. When they arrived at An-xi Square, Godo went straight to his quarters while Kasumi visited the nursery. Yuffie greeted her happily, but when she asked after Baba, it took Kasumi a moment to answer, "Baba isn't feeling well, sweetie. He'll come see you tomorrow."

When she went to her quarters, Godo was waiting for her. "I'm leaving for Longhua tomorrow morning," he said.

Kasumi was silent, and her eyes were unreadable. Godo tried to smile and continued, "Depending on how things go, I might be able to come home sooner this year."

"Sooner or later, it doesn't make a difference. Come home whenever it's convenient for you."

His wife's clipped tone, a tone she hadn't used with him in a long time, made his heart sink. Over the last ten days she had clearly come to the conclusion that he was responsible for the destruction of Shuxiang after all. _I didn't just betray the people of Wutai. I betrayed her too._ Even so, he couldn't bear to leave without asking: "Since I'm leaving tomorrow, let me sleep here with you."

"I want to be alone tonight."

"I-I see."

He opened his arms in a silent request for an embrace, but Kasumi remained where she was, icy and silent. He wished her good night and left. Alone and wide awake in his room, he listened to the eunuchs call out the passing hours of the night. With every passing hour the same thoughts echoed relentlessly in his head: _I let my people down, and I let her down. I know what I have to do. I have to regain our people's trust. Then I'll be worthy of her love again. I know all that, and still… I don't want to go._

In the morning his attendants helped him into the ceremonial robes of the Master of Battle. Outside the Emperor's quarters, Imperial Guards waited to escort him to the Temple. The morning was gray and gloomy, and frost coated the barren trees around the empty square. After offering his respects at the Temple, the Emperor and his guards went to the Pagoda to wait for the crowds and the imperial household to assemble. When the Emperor emerged from the Pagoda, the path to the Meridian Gate was lined with soldiers, with crowds of citizens behind them. The Emperor slowly made his way to the center of the square and turned to the Empress at the top of the Palace steps. The ritual bows began: the citizens, the imperial family, and the Empress each bowed to the Emperor in turn; Godo bowed to his wife. Thousands of voices shouted as one: "Ten thousand years!"

But instead of turning around to begin the journey, Godo began to walk towards the Palace, stopping when the soldiers lining the path began to shift uneasily. Even with the distance between them, Kasumi knew his eyes were fixed on her, and under the pain in his expression lay determination: _I will come back to you as a man worthy of your love._

He turned away and began to return to the center of the square. But the emotion Kasumi had fought all night burst forth, compelling her to descend the steps before she even realized it. Despite the thousands of eyes watching, she ran towards her husband's retreating back, instinctively shouting the name she had reluctantly called him at the festival in Nanchan, when she lost him in the crowd.

"Anata!"

He turned and she threw her arms around him. He stiffened with astonishment and horror. According to propriety, he couldn't even touch her hand in public, and yet she was embracing him amid thousands of scandalized eyes and murmurs of disapproval. He was almost angry—how could she do this, when she had all but ignored him for the last ten days?—and then, if she could hear his thoughts, she whispered, "I'm sorry, dearest. I'm so sorry," and suddenly he could no longer be angry with her. As he embraced her, she thought, _I'm sorry for pushing you away, for humiliating you like this in front of our family and our subjects, for thinking I could motivate you to atone for your mistake by holding my love hostage. Now I know. Even if you are responsible for the destruction of Shuxiang, I will still love you. Even if we lose the war, I will still love you. And even if the gods turn against us, I will still love you._ _Because I know we can make it through anything… even the fall of Wutai._

Reluctantly, they released each other. "Come back safely," Kasumi whispered. "For the glory of Wutai."

"For the glory of Wutai," Godo repeated quietly.

He lingered, clinging to Kasumi's hands. Finally he turned away to lead the march back to Longhua.


	22. Ten Thousand Years End

It rained on the day the army returned with the Emperor's body.

Late the previous night, Lady Usui woke Kasumi with an urgent message from her brother, the Master of Weapons. Kasumi unfolded the letter with shaking hands. It read:

_His Majesty has fallen in battle. The war is over. We are on our way back to the capital with the body. Shinra representatives are accompanying us in order to speak to you about the terms of surrender._

_Shansuke_

Kasumi read the letter over and over, her head spinning. "Your Majesty?" Lady Usui asked, concerned.

"Tell Eunuch Jang to spread the word." Kasumi was surprised at how level her voice was. "The Emperor is dead. The army has surrendered."

"No." Lady Usui's eyes widened. "How could Leviathan permit such a thing?"

"Maybe Leviathan has turned against us." Kasumi placed the letter on the ground by her bed. "You may go."

Lady Usui put out the lamp and left. Kasumi lay down to go back to sleep, but when she closed her eyes she saw the letter's opening words: _His Majesty has fallen in battle._

_My husband is dead._

Now, standing at the top of the Palace steps and watching the defeated army enter the Meridian Gate, she spotted the soldiers carrying a bier draped with white and sheltered by a canopy. The procession came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. "Bring the body to the Emperor's quarters," Kasumi ordered.

She preceded them to the Emperor's room, where the soldiers placed the bier on the floor and respectfully backed out of the room. Kasumi turned to Lady Usui, Eunuch Jang, and her ladies-in-waiting. "Please give me a moment," she said. They bowed and left, closing the doors behind them. They seemed to know that she wanted complete solitude, because instead of waiting just outside the room, they retreated, their footsteps fading in the distance.

She sat down and reached out to pull the cloth away. At the last second she hesitated. If she saw him now, she would remember him this way for the rest of her life. Finally she drew the cloth back. It was her husband, of course, but she was disturbed at how much it didn't look like him. He was always so expressive, even when he tried to hide it, even when he was asleep. The blankness of death didn't suit him.

Kasumi pulled the rest of the sheet away. Godo's armor had been removed. The plain black kimono he wore underneath was torn and stiff with dried blood and wasted Elixir from futile attempts to heal him. There, by his heart, was the wound that must have ended it all. Only now did it occur to Kasumi that she should have asked how he died, whether he had the time or the strength for any last words, whether he found the smallest inkling of peace in accepting death—or whether, to his dying breath, he never lost the will to live and fight.

She touched his cheek, so cold in death. She had considered that it would happen like this: that he might fall in battle, that she would receive the news of his death in a letter, that he would be cold by the time his body returned to her. But she never believed it would happen. Her husband was the Master of Battle, and each Wutainese soldier would die before letting any harm come to the Emperor. He couldn't die in battle, especially not when he had promised her he would come home safely.

She leaned down and kissed him one last time. _I love you. And if you had lived to reign for ten thousand years, I would have loved you until the very end._

Kasumi remembered nothing about the negotiations with Shinra or the Emperor's funeral. Between her and the world there seemed to be a window of shattered glass that distorted everything she saw, blurred everything she heard into incoherence, cocooned her in numbness. She didn't know what was happening to the Empire, and she didn't care.

"Mom!"

Through the shattered window she heard her daughter's voice as if from far away, saw her sitting across the table from her. When did she grow so much? It couldn't have been years since the war… could it? Did she leave her daughter to grow up fatherless _and_ motherless?

"Mom, wake up!"

_I'm so sorry, Yuffie. I want to wake up, but it hurts so much._

"Wake up!"

_My daughter… My daughter needs me._

Kasumi's eyes flew open. Her little girl was shaking her awake. "Mama, Lady Usui says wake up!"

"I'm awake," she mumbled. "I'm awake."

The little girl stared at her. "Are you crying?"

Kasumi reached up to find her temples wet with tears. She looked at her daughter again. _Six years old._ She covered her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. _It was just a dream._

"Why are you crying?"

Kasumi wiped her tears away, sat up, and opened her arms. "Come here. Mama needs a hug."

She clung to her daughter and fought back sobs of relief. _He's alive. My husband is alive._

"Mama," Yuffie whined, "can I go now?"

Kasumi released her and smiled for her. "That's right, you have to go to the dojo. Have a nice day, sweetie. I'll see you later."

Yuffie happily ran off to prepare for her morning martial arts lessons. "She is a warrior," Lady Usui commented as she helped Kasumi get ready for the day.

"Just like her father," Kasumi replied, smiling. But her smile faltered when she remembered her dream: her daughter pleading with her to wake up from the paralysis of her grief.

_If her father died, she would need me to be strong. And not just she, but the people of the Empire. After all, I promised to raise our daughter to have your heart._

Shortly after the New Year, she took Yuffie to the top of Da-chao's statue. The winter cold still clung to the high mountain air, but the plum trees were beginning to bloom. Scattered amid the sweeping, tiled roofs of the city were trees swathed in pale pink. Kasumi pointed out each of Wutai's landmarks by name: the bridges, the Lotus River, the Place of the Earth God's Repose, the Meridian Gate, the Pavilion of Heavenly Harmony, the Pagoda of Martial Might, the Palace of Earthly Peace. Yuffie carefully repeated each name. At sunset Kasumi sang the spring verse from her favorite lullaby, the Song of the Seasons. Yuffie happily sang along. For a child she sang well, her voice clear and melodic in the crisp air.

That summer, reports of an epidemic in the city reached the Palace. Day after day the reports of fatalities climbed. Doctors soon determined that contaminated water was the cause, but Kasumi still decided to monitor the situation and stay in the capital instead of making the annual retreat to the summer palace. She wrote to Godo to keep him informed about the epidemic, and he always wrote back to remind her to look after her own health.

On the evening of Seventh Night, just before the celebratory banquet was to begin, Kasumi visited Yuffie to ask her if she remembered the story of the Seventh Night Festival. When Yuffie professed that she did, Kasumi said, "Remind me. How does it start?"

"A long, loooong time ago, He Lian's dad had to fight in a war, but He Lian went instead—"

Kasumi laughed. "No, sweetie, that's the Ballad of He Lian. That's your favorite, isn't it? What about Seventh Night? The Weaver and the Herder?" When Yuffie looked at her blankly, Kasumi told her the story: "A long, long time ago, in a land above the clouds and among the stars, there lived the Weaver and the Herder. Every day the Weaver made beautiful clothes out of very fine silk, and the Herder looked after his chocobos in the meadow. One day, the gods decided that the Weaver and the Herder should marry. After they married, they fell in love. They loved each other so much that they spent all day together. The Weaver stopped making her beautiful clothes, and the Herder let his chocobos wander all over the land. The gods became angry with the Weaver and the Herder and decided to separate them. The gods made a huge river with the Weaver on one side and the Herder on the other. They are only allowed to meet again on the seventh night of the seventh month."

"That's today!" Yuffie exclaimed excitedly.

"That's right. And on that night, birds come from all corners of Heaven to make a bridge so that the Weaver and the Herder can be together again."

"I want to see!"

Kasumi and Yuffie went outside, but when they looked up, no stars shone through the darkness of night. "I don't see anything," Yuffie complained.

"It just means the Weaver and the Herder have to wait a little longer before they see each other again," Kasumi said, hiding her disappointment. As she and Yuffie went back inside, she realized that the gods chose the grayest month of the year, as if they didn't want the Weaver and the Herder to meet again.

Later that month, Kasumi began to feel sharp pains in her abdomen. The Palace kitchen staff took extra precautions at Doctor Yao's request, but over the next few weeks the pain only grew stronger. When the summer heat receded from the capital, Kasumi's strength seemed to go with it. Her brisk pace slowed when she began to feel dizzy while walking. One day, on her way to Yuffie's quarters, she fainted. When she regained consciousness inside her room, Doctor Yao told her that her symptoms matched those of the illness that had gripped the capital. Now bedridden, Kasumi wrote to Godo about her illness and dutifully took the medicines Doctor Yao gave her. The doctor expected recovery within two weeks, but as Kasumi watched the leaves fall from the trees and the mist rise from the pond in her garden, and as the cold began to creep into the Palace, she only grew worse: she lost her appetite and began to vomit blood.

Her only escape from the agony was sleep. Sometimes the Seventh Night story found its way into her dreams, but often it had a different ending. Sometimes she dreamed that the Weaver and the Herder weren't irresponsible like the story claimed they were. They balanced their duties and their love—but the gods separated them anyway. Sometimes Kasumi dreamed that after the couple was separated, both were too heartbroken to return to their duties, and they were never reunited. No matter how the story ended, one part was always the same: the Weaver and the Herder could never be together again.

* * *

On the day Shinra introduced its newest weapons, Wutai's defenses in Longhua crumbled. When bloodied soldiers staggered into the encampment bearing the news, the Wusheng gave the order to retreat. Against the others' wishes, Godo, intent on seeing what this new technology was, went to the battlefield with Shansuke and reinforcements to confront these new weapons. When the two arrived, it quickly became clear that Shinra's new weapons had nothing to do with technology. Three soldiers—one with a massive sword, one wearing a long red coat, and one with silver hair and a long sword—were cutting down soldiers right and left. Godo stared in astonishment. For three years Wutai's defenses withstood barrages of gunfire and bombs, only to fall at the hands of three soldiers wielding swords?

Shansuke drew his long wodao. "Leave this to me, Your Majesty," he growled, and charged into the fray. In the meantime, Godo and the reinforcements began the retreat. Once assured of their safety, Godo glanced over his shoulder at Shansuke—just in time to see the silver-haired soldier slash him across the chest.

The world slowed down as Godo raced forward. Though caught off-guard by Godo's speed, the silver-haired soldier still managed to keep up. When the temporary burst of speed faded away, Godo backed off, struggling not to let his astonishment show: how could a human keep up with him?

The silver-haired soldier lunged forward, swinging his long sword as if it weighed nothing. Worse, he already knew the sword's weakness: when Godo came close enough to land a blow with his own swords, the silver-haired soldier leaped out of reach. Only after a few minor wounds gave Godo the ability to increase his speed did he manage to draw blood. But when the silver-haired soldier jumped back, there was a flash, and white-hot pain against his face: one of the other three soldiers had slashed his cheek. Gathering the energy released by his pain, Godo raised his hand to the sky. Bolts of lightning crashed down on his opponents, temporarily stunning them. The third soldier rushed in to cover for his comrades. When the other two recovered, Godo managed to keep all three at bay only with his enhanced speed.

From behind Godo a soldier shouted, "Flash bomb!" The three Shinra soldiers, unable to understand the warning, backed off to recover their vision while Godo grabbed his brother-in-law and fled. When he reached the reinforcements, he ordered the nearest medic to treat Shansuke, but it was too late: when the Elixir was poured over his gaping chest, the wound remained, and Shansuke was unresponsive to every attempt to wake him.

The Wutainese army regrouped under cover of the forests of Pusa Ding Province. Godo, the reinforcements, and the last of the soldiers on the battlefield arrived when a messenger from the Palace arrived with a letter for the Emperor. Godo opened the letter immediately. Over the last month he had received two letters from Kasumi, the first telling him that she was showing symptoms of the disease that had plagued the capital, and the second telling him that she was bedridden but still expected to make a full recovery. Now he opened this last letter. It was not in her handwriting.

_Your Majesty—_

_The Empress has not recovered. She is very weak and may not have much longer to live. She requests that you return home as soon as possible._

_Yao Na_

* * *

Kasumi woke up to find her daughter sitting by her side. "Mama," Yuffie said the moment Kasumi opened her eyes, "where are you going?"

_I'm dying. Doctor Yao wouldn't have let her visit me otherwise._ Fighting back tears, Kasumi smiled. "I'm going to visit your grandparents," she said. "They want to hear all about you."

"Can I go too?"

"No, sweetie," Kasumi said gently. "You have to stay here."

Yuffie pouted and whined, "Why?"

"You have to train hard and become strong like your father."

"Why?"

"Because…" Kasumi was about to make something up, the way she did when the little girl persisted for too long. But looking at her daughter, she remembered her silent promise to raise a daughter who would have a heart like that of her father. She remembered Yuffie's joy when she saw Wutai from the height of Da-chao's statue. _She will finish what I couldn't do. To do that, she needs this._

She reached for her phoenix hairpin and pressed it into Yuffie's small hands. "Because our people need you," she finished.

Yuffie looked blankly at the hairpin. "Now listen carefully," Kasumi instructed. "I'm going to sing to you one last time."

She sang the fourth verse of the Song of the Seasons. Before she could start the fifth verse, Yuffie interrupted, "Mama, I can use feng shui dao! Can I show you?"

Kasumi smiled weakly. "Not now, sweetie. Mama's tired. Next time."

"Good night, Mama."

"Good night, sweetie."

For the last time, she gazed into her daughter's eyes. "Violet," she murmured. "Just like your father's."

She closed her eyes.

* * *

Godo arrived late at night to find An-xi Square empty except for the guards, who let him through only when they realized that the haggard, lone soldier was their Emperor. Despite his exhaustion, he ran to the Empress's quarters, heart pounding with anticipation. There was Yuffie, playing on the stairs to her mother's residence. As he came into the torchlight, she jumped to her feet and pointed a small, narrow object in her hand. "Stop, in the name of Leviathan!"

Godo smiled. "It's me, Yuffie. It's your father."

But the smile froze when he realized that she was holding the Empress's hairpin. _Kasumi would never give that away. Not on her life. But that means… she's already…_

His head began to spin; his eyes began to burn. "Give that to me," he ordered, snatching the hairpin away from Yuffie.

"Hey! Mom gave that to me! You dirty man, there's no way you're my dad!"

Ignoring Yuffie's protests, Godo threw the doors open and stormed into the hallway. Doctor Yao, just closing the doors to the Empress's room behind her, began, "Your Majesty—"

"Why didn't you send a letter?" Godo demanded. "If the Empress died, I should've been the first to know!"

When Doctor Yao opened her mouth to respond, a voice called from the room beyond, "Doctor Yao? Is that His Majesty?"

Pushing past the doctor, Godo opened the doors. There was Kasumi lying on her bed, deathly pale and thin, but alive. He hurried to her side, took her hand in his, and pressed it to his cheek. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I meant to come home sooner."

"You're hurt," she whispered, her fingers gentle against the scar on his face. "What happened?"

"Shinra brought reinforcements. Three soldiers, stronger and faster than any normal human. They massacred our forces at Longhua. And one of them…" He took a deep breath. "One of them killed your brother."

Kasumi closed her eyes in silence.

"We're regrouping at Pusa Ding. I don't know anything else. I left for the capital as soon as I received Doctor Yao's letter."

She opened her eyes. "Pusa Ding is still far." She hesitated. "Are you going back soon?"

"I'll stay as long as I need to. Chekhov is covering for me in the meantime."

"It won't be long." Her eyes glittered with tears. "I've already said goodbye to Yuffie. You came just in time for me to say goodbye. Now, promise me something. After I die, you will go on living."

Once upon a time it would have been a ridiculous thing to say; he could have gone on without her if she had died giving birth to Farruo, or if she had fallen ill early in their marriage. But now, when she was the only certainty in his future, he knew: "I can't. I can't live without you."

"Whether or not you think you can, you must. For our people. For Yuffie."

"I found Yuffie playing with this." Godo reached into his pocket and pulled out Kasumi's hairpin. "Why did you give it to her?"

"Because she is your heir. She will be the Empress one day."

He remembered her words when they lay in each other's arms that night. He knew he wasn't supposed to think of that, he was supposed to think of the Empire, but now she was all that mattered. "Forget about the future. What about today? What about you and me?"

"Now is not the time to talk about us," she said softly. "If there was ever such a time, we missed it."

"Please don't talk like that. You will live. And I will stay here until you recover."

She didn't respond, but in her eyes Godo saw a renewed hope to live. _Your strength has returned,_ he thought. _I'm here. We still have years, decades to spend together. You can't give up on life yet!_

He left Kasumi's side to ask Doctor Yao to send for another roll of bedding so he could spend the night in the Empress's quarters. Doctor Yao refused. "I understand your concern, Your Majesty," she said. "But what will we do if you catch her illness and we lose you, too?"

Her steady gaze reminded Godo: _Your life is not about her._ With a heavy heart, Godo returned to Kasumi's side to wish her good night.

When he returned the next morning, she was even paler than before. Her clenched jaw and her labored breathing told Godo she was in intense pain. When he touched her shoulder, her eyes fluttered open, but in her pain she couldn't manage a smile.

He couldn't have said how long they sat there in silence. Finally Kasumi's breathing began to steady, though her face was still strained. "Doctor Yao," she managed, and heaved. Godo released her hand and backed away while Doctor Yao brought Kasumi a basin and helped her sit up. "Go," Kasumi croaked. "Please."

Godo shook his head and remained where he was. He had seen soldiers vomit on the battlefield after a particularly brutal day. But when Kasumi bent over the basin, it was blood that came out. It was as if her body was rejecting life itself. Half-blind with tears, Godo stumbled out of the Empress's quarters and fell to his knees outside. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he raised his head. It was his sister Rina. "She's dying," Godo mumbled. "My wife is dying."

"Then what are you doing, leaving her alone when she needs you most?" Rina demanded.

"I can't bear to see her like this."

"Whether it's today or fifty years from now, there's no such thing as a beautiful death. You stay with her until the very end, no matter what that end looks like."

Chastened, Godo rose to his feet and returned to Kasumi's room. Doctor Yao was still supporting Kasumi as she slumped over the bloody basin. "Let me," Godo said to Doctor Yao. Hesitantly, she agreed. Godo wrapped his arms around Kasumi to steady her. Too weak to respond, she briefly touched his arm in gratitude.

When the nausea subsided, Godo helped Kasumi lie down. From the way her body tensed he knew the pain had returned. She was silent for the remainder of Godo's visit. When she fell asleep, Godo stood up asked Doctor Yao to send for him if Kasumi's condition changed during the night. He spent the evening prostrated in front of the statue of Da-chao at the Palace shrine and woke up in the morning to find himself still on the floor.

When he returned to the Empress's quarters, Kasumi was sitting upright with the support of cushions. She turned to Godo in the doorway, and he saw that some of the color had returned to her pale face. She even smiled. Godo sat down by her bedside. "It's because you're here," she said. "My body remembers its strength now. It just had to get worse before getting better."

They talked as they hadn't had a chance to talk in years, as they did that long-ago summer when they walked around the lake talking about anything and everything: things that mattered and things that didn't, things that brought laughter to their lips and things that brought tears to their eyes. Memories they shared and memories they had yet to share. Farruo, Kuniyoshi, Yuffie, and children yet to be born. As they talked, Godo's memories of the cool breezes, the verdant trees, and the shimmering lake of the summer palace came to life, even as he and Kasumi looked out onto the garden strewn with fallen leaves, cold sunlight, and frost. And even though Kasumi had long since abandoned any illusion of a carefree life with her husband, as they talked, a new vision of their future began to form: not one in which they were free to live as they wished—that was impossible—but one in which they treasured what little time the war and their duties afforded them. They would always want more. Of course they would; that was the nature of love. But someday the war would end, and if they lost the Palace and their status, they would at least have time and each other.

At the end of the day, Kasumi remembered that Yuffie had wanted to show off her new feng shui technique, so she asked Lady Usui to bring Yuffie to visit her early the next morning before she went to the dojo. Then Kasumi turned to Godo and asked him to help her lie down. "Are you going to sleep already?" he asked as he gently lowered her onto the bedding. "It's only sunset."

"I want to wake up in time," she responded. "I sleep so much these days. If I'm not awake by sunrise, will you wake me up?"

"Of course."

She looked at Godo sternly. "Promise you won't let me sleep in."

"I promise."

She smiled up at him and closed her eyes. Godo stayed long enough to watch her fall asleep, and then he returned to his own room.

He hadn't been asleep for long when Lady Usui came to his room to wake him: "Your Majesty, Doctor Yao sent me to tell you. Her Majesty has stopped breathing."

When Godo arrived at the Empress's quarters, his wife lay just as he had left her—but now her chest was still. Doctor Yao rose from Kasumi's side and bowed low to Godo. "Only Leviathan can save her now. Forgive me, Your Majesty."

"You did all that you could. Thank you for taking care of her for so long."

Doctor Yao left the room, and Godo took her place by Kasumi's side. He reached for her hand and felt the weak pulse. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes and prayed:

"Master Faruno, Tsanh-sama, please listen to the prayer of your unworthy son-in-law. I know you must miss your daughter, but please don't take her away yet. I know that I was once unfaithful to her. I know that I've taken her for granted while at war. But from now on I will spend the rest of my life caring for her. If it means I have to step down as the Master of Battle, I'll take care of her. If it means we lose the war, I'll protect her with my life. Until the day we die, until our hair is white and our children have children, I will take care of her. Please, return breath to her body and open her eyes."

He waited. The pulse beneath his fingers became still weaker. He opened his eyes and gazed at her pale, still face.

"Kasumi… I love you. I should have told you every day from the moment I knew. Don't go… Please."

She seemed to hear him. For just a moment her heartbeat strengthened, and he thought she would stir, open her eyes, and smile at him. But when he closed his eyes he saw her standing on the other side of a wide river, and her retreating footsteps were the dying shudders of her heart.

* * *

_All of life is fleeting. Nothing is eternal. History, Empire, ambition—all of those things will pass away. Love, wife, children—all those will pass away too. War, glory, defeat—so will those. Humans suffer because they desire what is not eternal. Desire nothing, and you will suffer nothing._

The man took the monks' teachings to heart when he arrived at Jinshan Temple. He meditated, chanted prayers with them, ate with them, listened to their sermons, swept his bedroom. He even wore their dark golden robes, though out of reverence for the ancestors he never shaved his head.

Two years ago everyone thought grief would leave him raw, angry, and ready to return to the battlefield. They expected the grief to fill him. But he was empty. He was numb. So he went to the temple. There he heard nothing from the capital and nothing from the battlefront. In the beginning he struggled to let go of the desire to know what was happening in the world beyond the temple. It was sheer instinct: he had spent his entire adult life embroiled in politics. A distraction. Had he known that, he would have abandoned his gilded cage at the capital much earlier, before he had a chance to taste the happiness that could not last—

The whispering trees and the chuckling creek, the vast hills around him and the array of stars overhead, the sighing rain and the glittering frost: among them he found peace. Not consolation, but peace. And he looked forward to thirty more years of it. If it meant he saw nothing of palaces or battlefields ever again, he welcomed it.

As it was, not even two years had passed since his arrival when the monks returned from their daily trip to nearby Jin-ge with news that the villagers were fleeing the advance of the Western army. That afternoon the monks argued among themselves about whether they should stay or flee, and those who were determined to stay argued over whether they should fight. The man returned to his hermitage unconcerned with the outcome of the debate. He had already decided for himself.

That night he knew Shinra had taken over Jin-ge when the villagers came running to the temple to seek refuge. Soon his time would come. He opened the small chest by his bed. Inside were her letters. His brother had sent them to him, likely thinking they would help him cope with his grief, but he had left them untouched during his stay at the temple. Now, with the end so near, he could read them one last time.

Here was the letter she wrote from Jinshan Temple, perhaps in this very room:

_Your Majesty—_

_As of late, the stress of court is affecting my health, so I decided to spend some time at Jinshan Temple.  
I think you might enjoy the peace and quiet here, so we should come here together sometime._

_Since you left, we have been extremely busy.  
Has it really been seven months?  
It is warm here, so we are starting to put away the silks for the cottons.  
The little girl is happy because she can run faster in cotton.  
Every day she runs around the Palace, and her amah struggles to keep up with her._

_I hope you are doing well in Longhua.  
Remember to send word when you are coming back.  
Until then,_

_Your Empress_

And at last it dawned on him why the letters were written the way they were. Every letter spelled it out: _I love you._ And even though he never understood what she had meant to say in her letters, even though he never wrote back in kind, she never stopped writing it: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

There was a deafening boom from outside. It was as if a wave had crashed over Godo's head, leaving him suddenly and sharply aware of every detail of his existence: his shaking hands, his shuddering breath, his blurring vision—and his beating heart. He had been wrenched from darkness, silence, and numbness into a world that was too bright, too loud, too sharp. Kasumi was bringing him back to life with the love she had hidden in her letters. He could sense her behind him, feel her arms encircling him and her head resting against his back, hear the low murmur of her voice telling him, _Wake up, my love._ But when he pressed his hand to his waist, where he felt her arms around him, she wasn't there. He was alone. The life she had given him remained, like the first rays of the sun upon a land that had seen two years of winter, and like a river released from its prison of ice, the tears poured freely. He sank to his knees and buried his face in his hands, leaving the letters to flutter to the floor. Two years of following the monks' teachings had kept the grief at bay, cocooning him in the numbness of deep sleep. He could have lived the rest of his life like that. Now that he had woken up, there was no returning to sleep. Now he was raw, now he was furious, now he would fight until there was no breath left in him.

He walked outside to find the temple grounds alight with fire. The monks who had chosen to fight lay strewn like autumn leaves on the ground. The swords in their hands had been useless against gunfire. Now Shinra's scouts advanced, guns trained on Godo. They had heard that the Emperor of Wutai had taken refuge in Jinshan Temple after the Empress's death. No doubt they had placed bets on which of them would be the one to kill the ruler of the last nation to resist Shinra Electric Power Company.

The world slowed to a crawl as Godo drew on the energy released by the pain of his grief. He darted towards the fallen monks, snatched two swords from their lifeless hands, and cut down the scouts before they even had time to register that he had moved. He continued on through Shinra's offensive, dispatching soldiers before they even saw him. By the time his burst of speed faded away, Shinra ordered a retreat, leaving the Wutainese army to regroup and recuperate at Fort Tamblin, the mountain pass's last defense before it descended into the Lotus River Valley and led to the capital. The Wusheng received Godo as if he had never been gone, and he reclaimed his position as the general of the Wutainese army.

It was another two years before Fort Tamblin fell to Shinra's troops. The Wutainese army retreated to the capital, sending an evacuation order ahead of their arrival. They were within sight of the capital's massive walls when planes ripped across the autumn sky and emptied their contents on the west side of the capital. The distant rumble and the smoke told Godo all there was to know—except one thing. The messengers that arrived from the capital brought the news: the Princess, last seen in the imperial cemetery, was missing and presumed dead.

That night, when the silver-haired soldier and his translator approached the Wutainese army, Godo came forward to meet him. "You see the destruction Shinra is capable of," the silver-haired soldier said. "We are capable of still more. But in the spirit of the understanding that once existed between these two great powers of the world, President Shinra has offered you the chance to surrender."

Looking into the soldier's pale blue eyes, Godo relived the string of deaths: Farruo, assassinated in a Shinra operation; Kyu-won, his wife, and his father's people, torn apart in the blast that destroyed Shuxiang; Shansuke, slain by the silver-haired soldier; Kasumi, fallen to the illness she contracted in her husband's absence; and finally Yuffie and the thousands who lived on the west side of the capital, immolated to end the war. _To end the war_—yes, perhaps as far as everyone else was concerned, the war was over. _But not for me._

"The war is not over. Not yet."

"You're hardly in a position to negotiate, Your Majesty."

"I have not come to meet you as an Emperor, surrounded by my guards and advisors. Nor have I come to meet you as the general of the Wutainese army, with the other four members of the Wusheng. I come as a widower, a father who has lost all his children, a man who has lost everything that ever mattered to him. I come to avenge that loss."

"You are the only one who can save your people. I won't kill the only man who can help them. Not unless you insist."

"For the last twenty years I have fought only for the people of Wutai. Now I fight for myself." Godo drew his swords, the swords his wife had given him: the swords of a commoner. "I am not afraid of death. After death I will be reborn, and in my next life I will fight for Wutai again. Shinra will never conquer Wutai!"

"I regret to inform you that there is no such thing as reincarnation," the silver-haired soldier remarked, unimpressed. "We only have one life, and after we die we disappear forever."

_Then I will never see her again. My love, my wife, my Empress!_ The anguish swiftly transformed into rage, propelling Godo forward. The silver-haired soldier shoved his translator back to safety and raised his long sword. "Very well," he said. "Let me help you reunite with your dead wife and children."

Godo fought as he had never fought before. He had spent nearly the entire duration of the war at a safe distance from the heaviest fighting. He was an Emperor, a husband, a father. He couldn't risk his life. But now, an Emperor of ashes, a husband of ashes, a father of ashes—now he had nothing to lose. The silver-haired soldier knew it too. As the battle wore on through the night, his impassive face turned into a scowl of frustration. Soldiers from Shinra gathered around. Every now and then they chanted the silver-haired soldier's name. It would start in a low murmur, like a cult intoning its god's name, and culminate in a frenzied shout that came to include insults against Godo and all the people of Wutai, especially when Godo drew on feng shui dao to increase his speed and use lightning magic. When Godo landed a particularly ferocious wound on his opponent, one of his outraged comrades leaped forward and trained a machine gun on him, but the silver-haired soldier knocked the gun out of his hands. "Leave him to me!" he ordered. "He wants me to kill him. I'm just getting started."

He threw himself back into the battle with renewed vigor and speed. After a long clash, he succeeded in knocking Godo's swords out of his hands. With impossible strength, he grabbed Godo and flung him into the air. Eight times the sword carved into his body before he plummeted back to the earth. Blood, there was blood everywhere, and all he felt was pain. His fingers found his swords by his sides, but blood made the hilts slippery, and there was no strength left in him…

The silver-haired soldier cast one last contemptuous glance down at him. "No one survives that one," he muttered, and turned away.

Godo closed his eyes and imagined gathering the pain into a small, white-hot bead of energy. With a jolt of newfound strength he lurched to his feet and battled the bewildered silver-haired soldier back. Blood fell like a waterfall, and he let it pour—there was nothing left to return to, nothing to protect. He saw the instant he needed to knock the silver-haired soldier's sword from his grasp—

There was a sharp pain to the side of his head, and he fell to the ground. One of the soldiers had rammed him with the butt of his gun. "I told you not to interfere!" the silver-haired soldier snapped.

"He was going to kill you!" the other growled.

"No, he wasn't. But he came closer than anyone else ever has."

There was the long sword at Godo's chest. "Any last words?"

Godo inhaled and choked on his own blood. "Do not hurt my people," he gasped. "Please… I beg you."

The silver-haired soldier's face showed a flash of something like pity before he raised his sword and thrust down.


	23. The Bridge

Godo woke up to the sound of deep breathing beside him.

_It can't be._

He reached out, and his fingers brushed the face he knew so well: smooth cheekbones, a small nose, a gently pointed chin. "My Empress," he breathed.

Kasumi stirred. "Is it time to get up?" she mumbled sleepily.

"For me it is. You don't have to, yet."

"Then why are you touching my face?" she asked, amused.

"I had a nightmare. I dreamed that you died of your illness. When I woke up, I wasn't sure if I was just dreaming, or if you were really…"

Kasumi squeezed his hand. "Just a dream," she whispered.

Her fingers were warm, her grip firm, nothing like the cold, frail hand he had held in the dream. "Sorry to wake you. You can sleep a little longer," he told her. "I'll see you in the library."

"No, it's all right. I'll get up."

As they began the morning routine, it all came back to him. Four years ago, after Kasumi recovered from her illness, Godo returned to Pusa Ding to lead the army. After a few months of intense fighting, Shinra representatives approached the Wutainese camp. In the spirit of the understanding that Wutai and Shinra had shared before the war, they offered a formal apology for the Prince's death and proposed a ceasefire to bring an end to the heavy casualties and economic losses of the war. After consulting with Kasumi and his advisors, Godo accepted, and Shinra withdrew its forces from the continent. The two parties agreed to give each other a few years to recover, after which they would reestablish diplomatic relations. The imperial family had had to tighten their belts to give the treasury time to recover, but Godo didn't mind. He told himself that after centuries of excess, the imperial family was learning how to live simply.

After the court session and the lunch debriefing, Godo changed into his martial arts uniform. Kasumi accompanied him to the dojo. First they found Yuffie. As one of the top students in her year, she was quickly proving herself her father's daughter. Watching his daughter hold her own against her bigger, stronger peers, Godo felt proud.

Kasumi left the dojo to teach her classes, but she and Godo reunited at the nursery. After the war ended, they decided they didn't need the court astrologers' help deciding when to conceive children. Their second daughter was born two years after the war's end. Like her older sister, she looked more like Kasumi than Godo and had the Kisaragi violet eyes. Nearly two years old, she ran to her parents for a hug when they came to the nursery. Her amah showed them that she could understand simple directions, and she pointed to Godo and Kasumi when asked where "Baba" and "Mama" were.

Over dinner with Yuffie, Godo complimented her on her performance in the sparring match earlier that afternoon. Yuffie beamed proudly at the praise, only to deflate when Kasumi told her that she wasn't taking her studies seriously enough. "I'm not going to be a scholar-official!" Yuffie grumbled. "Why do I have to be a genius like you?"

"I'm not a genius, and studying isn't about being a genius. It's about working hard," Kasumi said, gently but firmly. "All we're asking is that you give your studies the same effort that you give your martial arts training."

"You are the Crown Princess, in line to become the sixteenth Kisaragi ruler," Godo added. "Doing well in your studies is just as important as doing well in the dojo."

After dinner, Yuffie stamped off to her quarters for a remedial lesson. Godo and Kasumi returned to their respective quarters to change into the simpler clothes of a nobleman and a noblewoman. Godo waited for Kasumi at the Palace gate. It was late autumn, and the yellow and red leaves scattered on the pavement gleamed as the guards began to light the torches. When Kasumi arrived, she and Godo passed through the Meridian Gate and walked down the city's main street. Godo worried about what Yuffie's attitude towards her studies would mean for her preparation to become the ruler of Wutai. "She's only ten years old," Kasumi pointed out. "She'll grow up. I'm sure the military service will do wonders for her. And there's no rush. Didn't your physician say you're in great health? You must have forty years left."

They reached the bridge. Godo stopped Kasumi and looked around to make sure they were alone. "Forty more years as Emperor sounds long, but if every day of those forty years is like today, I will have lived the best life I can imagine."

"What makes you say that?"

"When we declared war, all I could think of was revenge for Farruo. I wasn't thinking about how I would have to leave our family, how many people I'd ask to leave their own families, how much damage the war would do to our land. When the war dragged on, I realized that more than winning, I wanted to come back to you, I wanted our people to be safe, I wanted to give our country a chance to recover. That was when I decided I didn't need to win the war, even for Farruo's sake. Right here, right now, I have everything I want. I have you. I have two beautiful daughters, and the older one is a fighter who will one day be a strong Empress like her mother. The Empire is at peace. I don't need anything else."

"Remember this," Kasumi said quietly. "When you lose the will to go on, remember how you feel now, and keep going."

Godo was taken aback at the sadness in her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's go to the middle of the bridge. I have something to tell you."

"Do you have to tell me in the middle of the bridge?" he teased, but followed her to the center of the bridge. Side by side, they watched the torches' reflection glimmering on the water's surface like a river of stars.

"This is where we ran into each other that night, the night you asked me to marry you. In a way, this is where our fate began," Kasumi said wistfully. "And this is where it ends."

Godo turned to her. "I don't understand."

"This is a dream. What you thought was a dream this morning is real."

He waited for her to laugh and take back her words, but the sorrow in her dark eyes told him he waited in vain. "This isn't funny," he said finally.

"I know. But it's true."

"We have a life here, together. We have two children and you are at my side, just like always. Is this all a lie?"

"It was a real hope for a real future. But it's only a dream."

"Then Wutai lost the war." Godo stared at her, desperately willing it not to be true. "Our second daughter was never born. And… you died of your illness four years ago. You're… not real."

She smiled sadly. "I am only as real as your memories."

And his last waking memory of her returned to him with painful clarity: promising to wake her up before sunrise, holding her hand helplessly as her pulse faded beneath his fingers. His vision blurred with tears. "It can't be," he mumbled.

Kasumi's eyes glittered with tears of her own. "It's time for you to wake up."

"If this is a dream, can I see you again?"

She clasped his hand in hers. "You must live a long life. You must take care of yourself. Raise our daughter well, and be a strong leader for our people." Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his and mustered a smile. "This is how I want you to remember me."

Her hand closed around thin air: Godo was beginning to fade away. "No," he gasped.

As the world began to fade into darkness, he heard the whisper of his wife's voice:

"I love you."


	24. Winter

_I love you._

Godo opened his eyes to silence. He threw his arm to his side, desperately searching for Kasumi in the darkness, but he was alone.

_She's gone. The war is over. Wutai is finished._ He closed his eyes. _It has to be a dream. Please let it be a dream._

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sound of his physician, Akiyoshi, and Rina entering the room. The physician sat down at Godo's side to check his wounds. Godo winced at the scars crisscrossing his chest. "It's a miracle you survived, Your Majesty," the physician remarked.

"Why—" Godo began hoarsely. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"It wasn't what your wife would have wanted," Rina said softly.

"Not what she would have wanted," Godo repeated. He raised his voice in anger. "Does that make it all right? Do you think I'll accept anything if you tell me it was what she would have wanted?"

Rina retorted, "You're alive because the other Masters of the Pagoda refused to negotiate the terms of surrender without you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"If I died, they would have had to negotiate without me anyway!"

"But you are the only one who can be trusted to decide what will least hurt the people of Wutai," Akiyoshi pointed out.

Godo closed his eyes._ The people… It's about them. It's not supposed to be about her._

"We're not asking you to keep being the Emperor," said Rina. "Once the fate of the Empire is decided, your life is yours to do with as you wish."

They all turned to leave, but Akiyoshi remembered one last thing: "We found your daughter. She's alive. It turns out she wasn't even in the capital at the time of the bombing."

Godo's heart was too heavy for the news of Yuffie's survival to lift it. He had fought because he believed she was dead. He had thought that his duel against the silver-haired soldier was a glorious last stand for the warrior who had nothing more to lose. Now it was nothing more than the thoughtless act of a father who risked leaving his young daughter an orphan.

Godo dressed in his imperial yellow robe and slowly made his way to the throne room. The representatives had set up a table closer to the door than to the throne and left one seat empty. The tone was set: instead of sitting on his throne above them, the Emperor would sit at the table, on their level.

In the afternoon, Godo summoned the scholar-officials to the throne room. When everyone took their places, he raised his head to address the court.

"Shinra has laid out the terms of Wutai's surrender. They will withdraw most of their troops. Some will stay to stamp out any rebellious factions. Wutai is to withdraw our spies from Shinra. Shinra will not build a mako reactor in Wutai. And they will not interfere with our government. We will keep Our sovereignty. These are generous terms," Godo continued, "because Shinra knows that there is no rebuilding the Empire. It is shattered beyond repair. There isn't enough money in the treasury to keep the Empire running for a year. Dozens of towns and villages have been destroyed. Hundreds of thousands of people have died, both soldiers and civilians. And the imperial court became nothing more than an opium den."

The scholar-officials stared back at him with dull eyes.

"We have called you here for a final court session." Godo unrolled the scroll he was holding and read: "After repeated attempts at reform, the court has resisted change. Therefore, from this day forward, the court of scholar-officials will be disbanded. All current members are to be stripped of their privileges, honors, and salaries."

The court quickly erupted into protests: "Who are you to put an end to an ancient tradition?" "This was your war!" "Are you going to go on living in luxury while the rest of the Empire suffers?"

Godo waited until the protests died away. Then he continued: "Recognizing that the Emperor is to blame for the beginning of the war, We, the Fifteenth Kisaragi Emperor, abdicate from the Lotus Throne. We will continue to rule Wutai under the title of a lord, but the Kisaragi dynasty is at an end. There will be no heir to the Lotus Throne. These are the Emperor's final words."

Godo rolled up the scroll and stood up. The scholar-officials stared at him, stunned, as he reached up to remove the Emperor's hat and place it on the throne.

That evening, Rina stormed into the Emperor's quarters. "What have you done?" she demanded. "It wasn't enough for you to lose the war? You had to bring the whole Empire down too? This wasn't what your physician and the Masters of the Pagoda saved you for!"

"You wanted me to choose," Godo responded flatly. "And this was my choice."

"If you didn't want to remarry and have another son, you could have adopted my son," Rina said angrily.

"The Empire as we know it is finished. Whether or not I have an heir is not going to change that."

"It won't change anything now, but what about when you're gone? If you die without an heir, there will be war."

"There won't. No one with the strength to fight this war survived. The rest are too addicted to opium to care what will happen afterwards."

He stood up and began to walk out of the room. "This isn't what the Empress would have done!" Rina snapped. "If you died and she lived, she wouldn't give up! She would do everything she could to keep the Empire together!"

Her words haunted Godo on his walk to the remains of the imperial cemetery. Somewhere among the ashes were his wife and their two sons. And his ancestors, the leaders of Wutai's proud army, the founders of the Kisaragi dynasty, the illustrious emperors of years past. He sank to his knees. _I am the end of that glorious dynasty. I, who thought he would be the Empire's savior. I, who began a war with the West over the death of his son, and lost. I, who lost his will to fight when he lost his wife._

His hand found the knife in its sheath at his waist. _A man with honor would rather die than live with shame…_

He raised the knife to his head and, in a single, swift stroke, severed the hair that was the sacred bond between him and his ancestors.

_… __But I am no such man._

Wutai fell swiftly into decay. Now that the "dragon" of the East was defanged and drugged, foreigners descended upon Wutai to gape at her backwardness, marvel at her exoticism, and pity her helplessness. Godo witnessed it from the shadows of the Palace, now the Imperial Museum. There were few things tourists found more exciting than catching a glimpse of the last Emperor wandering the Palace grounds, alone, a shade of his past majesty. He did his best to avoid them by spending most of his time in his room. The tourists were much more likely to see a young girl running around the Palace as if she owned it. With her short hair and her modern, foreign clothes, they couldn't possibly know that she was in fact the last Princess of Wutai.

The Palace's transformation into a museum meant that Riko was released from prison. Before she left for the West, she visited Godo to congratulate him on being Wutai's last Emperor. In turn, he congratulated her on her treason and asked her if she really believed her lover was waiting for her. She responded that it was never about her lover; it was about being able to do whatever she wanted.

Akiyoshi traveled to Pusa Ding in search of his long-lost love, Ai, but he returned to the Palace alone. He told Godo that Ai had married and had children with another man, a soldier who died in the war. When Akiyoshi told her that he was finally free to be with her and asked her to go to the capital with him, she refused. "I thought nothing could ever replace one's first love," he said to Godo. "But now I know I was a fool. She moved on a long time ago. I should have done the same."

Until the day she died, Rina insisted that if Kasumi had survived Godo, she would have pulled herself together and found the strength to continue ruling over the Empire. Standing in front of her grave, Godo told her, "You were wrong. I knew Kasumi—I knew us. I was her strength. She would have mourned me her whole life, a shadow of who she used to be. I know because that's how I am mourning her now. That was the way we were: our lives were so intertwined that we weren't whole without each other. When she died, part of me died with her."

Some years after the war ended, Akisada, from wherever he was living, wrote to express his condolences for Kasumi's death. "But you can choose to move on," he wrote. "At a certain point, grief is a choice. When my first wife died, I thought I would never be happy again. But I remarried and fell in love. It could happen to you too."

After reading the letter, Godo went out into the garden and into the pavilion on the pond. It was where he had gone to grapple with his emotions when he received Akisada's letter telling him that he had left Wutai with Yoko. Kasumi had called out to him then and, in an attempt to comfort him, kissed him. As their kiss went on, he wondered if he couldn't love her after all. He imagined loving her, imagined that instead of the banality of their daily life there would be quiet tenderness, imagined how differently he would see their children if he loved their mother. Then the thought of how lonely it would be to love someone who didn't return his love brought tears to his eyes and an end to the kiss… but it wasn't the way things turned out. Kasumi opened her heart to him, he began to love her, and she returned his love. After that, Yoko, the woman he had briefly thought was the love of his life was no more than a distant memory.

_Maybe Akisada is right: my heart changed once, and maybe it could change again if I let it. Maybe Akiyoshi is right: after losing love, the best thing we can do is to move on. But after the loss of my country, my sons, and my wife… there is nothing I can do but grieve._

He walked out of the pavilion and onto the bridge. No voice called out to him, no one came running to him from the other side. And when he looked up, there were no stars, only a dark, empty sky.

_Travelers look up at the stars to know where they should go. I see nothing. The future is dark to me: my future, Wutai's future, my daughter's future. I do not know where to go. And I have no desire to know._

* * *

On the morning of his wife's birthday, Godo woke up early to prepare breakfast. Congee, of course, because it was winter. It took more than an hour to prepare, but Godo didn't mind. After he finished cooking, he went to the shrine room, wished Kasumi a good morning, and put down the tray in front of her shrine. He placed the bowl in front of the painting she had commissioned all those years ago, the one depicting her wearing the wooden hairpin. After breakfast he went to the dojo to oversee the morning martial arts classes. He left the dojo early to prepare Kasumi's favorite dishes for lunch, but Kasumi's former attendant, Usui Machi, was already cooking. "I only asked for the ingredients," he protested.

"I only ever come to the Palace once a year for Her Majesty's birthday," Machi responded. "I thought I would cook for her just this once, since I never had the chance while I was her attendant."

Godo returned to his room for a change of clothes. Then he returned to the shrine room to apologize to Kasumi because he had wanted to prepare the meal himself, but her faithful attendant wanted to help her celebrate. Machi came into the room, set the table, wished Kasumi a happy birthday, and left.

After lunch, Godo cleaned up the dishes and told Kasumi he was going to take a nap. Once he woke up, returned to the kitchen to prepare tea. He returned to the shrine room to drink it with Kasumi. This time he remembered to tell her that Yuffie was coming home tomorrow. "I'll make sure she visits you as soon as she comes home," Godo promised. "She's still with that Western organization. She says she's doing something good for the world, but that world doesn't seem to include Wutai. If I had raised her instead of ignoring her all these years… if you'd been here with me… how different she would be. Now she's frozen in an eternal childhood, chasing whatever entertains her. I know now that she will never be what we hoped she would be. But maybe one day, at the very least, she'll understand what we lived for, what we hoped for her."

Early in the evening, Godo went to the kitchen and found the ingredients he had requested for dinner. He prepared a simple dinner, though when he came to the shrine room to set the table he told Kasumi that it still counted as a banquet because he cooked. After dinner, he left the room to wash the dishes. He returned with a bottle of sake and a single cup.

Godo poured the sake and drank, thinking carefully about what he wanted to say. He only visited for their anniversary and her birthday, both in January. Akiyoshi had once asked him why he visited so rarely. _Because it hurts to remember. Because on most days, I try to forget who I am. And she reminds me of what I want to forget._ He knew it was wrong, but forgetting was the only way he could live with the grief and the shame.

"Akiyoshi told me I should write a memoir about us," he said aloud. "I finished last night. I didn't write down everything, but I remembered it anyway. Including the dream I had all those years ago. In that dream, we lived the life we wished we could have had. These days, I have a very different dream." He took a deep breath. "In that dream, we meet again on the shores of the afterlife. Between us is a carpet of wasurenagusa, the flowers of true love."

He could almost see her face, not emaciated and sunken as it had been in her last days, but full and rosy. Already his heart felt lighter: her smile could end the years of longing in a moment of tenderness. But this was not how the dream unfolded.

"You look at me with disappointment. The wasurenagusa turn into higanbana, the flowers of the two lovers who promised to meet again in their next life, but could never fulfill their promise." His eyes burned with tears. "Was this life our only chance to be happy together? How could the gods be so cruel? Would it be better to forget the short years of our happiness than to live the rest of my life with only the memory of you? I ask myself that, and I always end up with the same answer: the only thing emptier than a life without you is a life without even the memory of you."

He pressed his fingers to his lips and gently touched the painting. "I'll be back next year for our anniversary," he promised. He took the bottle and cup and left the room.

Alone in his room, Godo sat down by the brazier and gazed at his memoir. He remembered the question he asked himself before he began to write. _In the end, were they memories of happiness or sadness?_ He sat down by the brazier and touched the papers to the burning coals. It blossomed into flame: ink and paper blackened, curled, and crumbled to ashes. And in that moment, the answer to his question came to him: _They were memories of love, a love like spring flowers in late autumn. They won't last long, but the way they bloom, one would think they could last forever._

_Maybe, like Akiyoshi said, Kasumi and I did live in a spring of our own. Maybe that's why, like the Weaver and the Herder, we were separated. But there is no bridge I can cross to be with her. Even though I am no longer the Emperor, the people of Wutai still depend on me. My life is still not mine to take._

_But in spite of all that has happened, in spite of the dreams that tell me we will never meet again, I can't help believing that we will. In our next life, we will live for each other. We will love each other. We will have children for the joy of having our own family. We will share both joy and pain. We will live to watch each other grow old. Our love will not be brief as an unseasonal bloom, but long as the pines, which endure all the seasons of life with patience._

_Until then, I wait in the winter of my solitude._


End file.
